Out of the Depths
by Mordac
Summary: My take on the Slytherin!Harry genre. What if Harry's less-than-happy childhood had left him more jaded than canon? No pairings, and you won't find any eleven year olds talking as if they were at a Renaissance fair here either.
1. Chapter 1

I've always been a fan of the Slytherin!Harry genre, but a lot of the fics in it annoyed me, either because of character bashing, or more generally because they have no notion of propotion when dealing with interactions between eleven year olds.

There are, of course, many Slytherin!Harry fics I've greatly appreciated. I would especially recommend Mira Mirth's _On the Way to Greatness_. However, I thought it was time to actually show the world my own take on the subject, and here we are.

I of course do not own Harry Potter. Some of the dialogue, which I would have to reproduce in one form or another, even if just paraphrase, is taken from PS. I tried to keep it to a minimum, but I didn't think paraphrasing was worth the bother.

So, without further ado, I present the first chapter of Out of the Depths.

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Chapter 1

_"O tan-faced prairie-boy!  
Before you came to camp, came many a welcome gift;  
Praises and presents came, and nourishing food—till at last, among the recruits,  
You came, taciturn, with nothing to give—we but look'd on each other,  
When lo! more than all the gifts of the world, you gave me."_

_ Walt Whitman_

It was getting embarrassing. It was not often that passersby saw an eleven year old carrying a massive wooden trunk and an owl cage. Complete with the owl, even. He was starting to get really angry at Hagrid. How could he forget telling him about how to get into the platform? That was probably the second most important thing he needed to know, after "You're a wizard" that is. He was starting to get lost in his thoughts when the loud words of a plump redheaded woman who seemed to be travelling with her entire extended family reached his ear.

"... packed with Muggles, of course..."

He could instantly tell, by the way she carried herself as though she owned the joint, that she was a witch. Which meant that the amorphous orange blob around her were likely all students going to Hogwarts, like himself. He retreated behind his luggage, but kept an eye out on the gingers' actions. They seemed to take a lot of time to do anything, seemingly lost in inane conversation Harry couldn't hear, but eventually what looked like the oldest child stepped forward against a the barrier between the two platforms. Harry recoiled instinctively, expecting him to crash, but instead, when he looked up, the boy was gone. His eyes went wide. Of course, the platform was hidden from muggles, just like he had thought, and rather than tapping bricks, all he had to do was run through a wall. This was confirmed when a boy that he now saw to be one of two twins pushed his cart through the barrier. Harry could barely believe his eyes as he saw first his luggage disappear, and then the boy himself.

Now that he knew about it, he hoped these people would hurry up. He didn't dare showing himself to them, as he was afraid the scene at the Leaky Cauldron would repeat itself. Despite his years of solitude at the Dursleys, he found he did not enjoy being put in the spotlight like that either. It made him feel so exposed. He certainly didn't want strangers swarming him again.

Finally, the pack of redheads had all crossed over, and he slowly began to make his way toward the barrier. Even though everything told him he was going to crash against it, forcing him to close his eyes in anticipation, he went through the barrier without even noticing it, and came upon a platform packed with people.

"Wicked!" he murmured. Magic was amazing. A sign overhead told the waiting passengers that the train, called the Hogwarts Express, would be departing at eleven. The train itself seemed to have been taken from a museum, steam from its engine floating above the station like a floating cloud of steam. He assumed the resemblance to muggle trains was only superficial, since surely wizards wouldn't need to be using steam trains, would they?

He had started moving while contemplating this, keeping close to the wall and heading toward the end coaches. He figured less people would be boarding them, giving him more time to settle in. Around him, many wizard parents fussed over their children, though he noticed several people who at least looked like muggles. He assumed their children were the "other kind" the blond boy at Madam Malkin's didn't think should be let into Hogwarts.

"Now Daphne, say goodbye to your sister, dear. You won't be seeing her again for a long time", he heard a slender witch say to a girl with long black hair, whom he assumed to be Daphne. She seemed to be about his age, so he assumed the too was starting Hogwarts this year. Daphne bent down and hugged her smaller sister, who seemed embarrassed but secretly pleased. "Bye, Astoria," the older girl said. "I'll tell you all about Hogwarts when I come home for Christmas.

He smiled at this as he went on, finally reaching the second to last coach. He struggled to get his trunk on board, but fortunately his Dickensian childhood had given him a gift for seemingly impossible tasks, and after much huffing and puffing he managed to drag it to a compartment. After finally tucking it away safely for the journey, he let himself fall into the seat and let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. He was here. On the train to Hogwarts. Finally away from his so called relations, and he was going to learn magic. Yes, the world wasn't such a bad place after all.

He was so overjoyed he barely heard the train whistle and only realized they were moving when the train started to accelerate through the London suburbs. His peace was interrupted by the loud clanking of wood on metal. He could tell someone was trying to move his trunk with even less success than he had just had. Feeling charitable, he got up and slid the compartment door open, poking his head out in the direction of the noise.

"Need help with that, mate?" He asked of the trunk's owner, who he now saw to be a tall, stringy boy with black hair. The boy was as skinny as Harry, and obviously less used to manual work, for he looked back at him like he had seen Christ.

"Would you? My father helped me hoist it here, but I guess he never thought I'd need to drag it after I was inside the train..." Harry laughed at that and grabbed one of the handles, as the boy did the same on the other side. Perhaps unconsciously, he walked in reverse toward his old compartment, not even thinking the hazel eyed boy might have other plans. The new trunk was safely resting beside its brother when Harry even thought of that.

"Er, I hope you didn't have any destination in mind," he trailed off, mostly afraid he'd have to pick up the heavy chest again; however, deep inside him, he wondered if it wasn't a desire for companionship that had led his feet back there. Fortunately, his worried were for naught, for the boy sat across from him and looked up at the ceiling in exhaustion. Seemingly speaking to the ceiling, he regained his breath and shrugged.

"Well, this is the train to Hogwarts, isn't it?" There was a moment of silence before Harry snickered. The boy lowered his head and grinned at him.

"For the moment this is fine though. I'm Theodore Nott, by the way," he said, extending his hand. Harry quickly shook it.

"Harry Potter..." he trailed off, hoping he didn't get the reaction he did before. Whatever reaction he expected, however, wasn't what Theodore displayed, for he just looked at him slack-jawed with an expression he couldn't identify. That was gone quickly though, and he spoke again with a very detached voice, though without any hostility in it.

"Are you really? Well, you look nothing like the stories." Harry couldn't believe his ears.

"There are stories about me?" Nott blinked at that.

"Well, there are children's books featuring you. I once got one for Christmas from some distant cousin.... But how can you not know that?" he seemed more puzzled than anything. Harry blushed at this.

"I didn't know I was a wizard until last month. I was raised by my muggle relatives, and they hate magic, so they didn't tell me anything about it." Theodore just looked shocked.

"What? I'd heard that you had to live with muggles, but why wouldn't they tell you anything. Surely there is someone watching over you?"

Harry just shrugged. He did find it weird, now that he thought about it. If he was so important, how come no one had ever checked on him? Surely they wouldn't tolerate their hero being treated like a bloody servant. The anger he started feeling at this must have shown on his face, for Nott leaned back and looked at him like he was seeing him for the first time.

"You're serious, aren't you? You really were raised by bloody muggles." Harry looked sheepishly at Ted. He was really embarrassed at not knowing anything about magic, and he hated the Dursleys for withholding it from him all his life. But more than that, he hated the fact that no wizard had ever deigned to check on him. He finally nodded.

"Yea, it was bad..." He trailed off, desperate to change the subject. He grabbed onto the first thought that occurred to him.

"How about you? Are all your family wizards?" The other boy looked downcast at this. "They are. But it's really just me and father. My mum died two years ago and my parents never had any other children, so..." He trailed off.

"Oh, I'm sorry." He was. He had never known his own parents, and he still missed them terribly, even if he knew all he missed was the idea of having parents. But the idea of knowing and losing them somehow seemed even worse. Theodore shrugged, though Harry noticed he wasn't looking back at him.

"It's ok, you didn't know...." Nott's eyes seemed to drift out the window at this, and Harry sat back and let him enjoy his silence. It didn't feel awkward, somehow. It was as if some old longing had settled in the compartment, and they were both lost in it. Theodore on what had been, Harry on what could have.

He couldn't tell how long they had been lost in that silence, but they were interrupted by a smiling, dimpled witch who opened the compartment door to expose a food cart. "Anything off the cart, dears?"

Harry hadn't had anything for breakfast, so he got up to examine the cart's contents. He wasn't sure what half the things on it were, and despite his newfound fortune, his old habits of frugal living couldn't let go of him. He took out his money pouch and bought a couple of sandwiches, and turned back to bump into Nott. He hadn't even heard him get up, and he drew back startled. Nott grinned and got himself some non-descript food, while Harry did return to his compartment after circumnavigating the taller boy.

After they'd both made themselves comfortable again, Harry asked between two bites, "Didn't even hear you get up. How did you do that? Magic?" Theodore laughed at this.

"Not at all, it's just practice. In our old crooked house, you can hardly move without something creaking, but I've always liked to wander at night. So I had to develop some stealth skills. Doesn't mean I never got caught though," he grimaced, and Harry imagined he was recalling some punishments he had been subjected to following that. Harry knew from experience what that was. They stayed silent for a long time after this, each one ruminating over his thoughts. Eventually, remembrance of his trip to Diagon Alley caused him to break the pleasant silence.

"Hey, when we get to Hogwarts, how do they decide which house to put you in?" He was genuinely curious. What was the point of the house thing anyway, he wondered. Theodore just shrugged.

"My father wouldn't tell me, though he did warm me to disregard any outrageous rumors. Some kid in the platform was saying we had to try on a talking hat, can you believe that?" They both laughed. "It has something to do with your personality though, I'm sure of that." Theodore had unconsciously adopted a professorial tone while explaining this, which amused Harry greatly. "Gryffindor is the house of the brave and brazen. Ravenclaw is for those who pursue knowledge and wisdom. Hufflepuff is based on equality, diversity and hard work, while Slytherin is the house of cunning and ambition." Ted finished his mini-lecture, prompting Harry to deliver the follow up."

"What house do you think you'll be in then?" he asked. Theodore looked somewhat conflicted at this.

"Well, my father will be really disappointed if I don't get into Slytherin. Everyone in my family has been for generations…. But I think I will be going into Ravenclaw," he bit his lip. "I guess you wouldn't know, but we don't have schools before Hogwarts, so I was just homeschooled." He looked embarrassed and seemed to be looking for words to put something delicately. "My dad doesn't really have a lot of family friends, so it was basically just our family growing up. I didn't have anything to do so I just read a lot… basically everything I could get my hands on."

Harry only wished he could have had that solace growing up. He did once nick one of Dudley's children's books when he was younger. The fat pig hardly knew how to read, so he wouldn't miss it anyway. It was the only book he ever owned, and it sat in his trunk right now. Even though it was really a very childish story, he didn't think he would ever be able to throw it away. He must have drifted away in his thoughts, because Nott suddenly poked him.

"Are you awake, Potter?" He shook his head.

"Sorry, something you said just made me think… What were you saying?"

"I was asking where you think you'll be in yourself." An extremely good question, Harry thought, but one for which he had no good answer. He didn't think he really had any of those qualities, and a dread washed over him like a bucked of cold water. What if he was found unworthy of any of the houses, and sent back to the Dursleys.

"I.. I'm not sure. I guess I'll just have to find out when I get the-" he was interrupted by a bushy haired head poking through the compartment door. The body attached to it soon followed, and it turned out to belong to a brown haired girl of around their age, who was already sporting her new Hogwarts robes.

"Have any of you seen a toad?" she demanded. Harry frowned. Her voice sound very bossy and it reminded him vaguely of Aunt Petunia. That must have been why he sounded so rash when he replied.

"Why would we have seen a toad? Did you bang your head somewhere?" She looked extremely flushed at this and huffed.

"A boy named Neville just lost his, for your information. And you shouldn't talk like that to people you know?" At this, Nott leaned forward and took his side.

"What do you call just barging in without warning and just asking us about toads. Of course we'd think you're mental. Try saying hello next time first."

The girl just looked even more self-important, if that was possible. "Well, you shouldn't assume things like that about people." She paused before adding. "Oh, and we're almost at Hogwarts, so you'd better put on your robes if you don't want to get sent back home." With a self-satisfied smirk, she left them with this Parthian shot.

Now that she mentioned it, the train did seem to be slowing down. They hurriedly got their robes on, finishing just as a disembodied voice announced that "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

"Well, that's a relief," Harry breathed. "I wasn't fancying having to carry that thing all the way to school." Ted's only reply was a grimace, after which they got up and out into the lonely corridor, as the train slowed down and finally stopped. They jumped down onto the platform and hurried toward the front of the train, where a familiar voice was calling all "Firs' years!"

Hagrid! They just made it on time before the throng of 'firs' years' started moving, following Hagrid down a narrow path, lined up with gloomy cedars. The trees seemed to impose a heavy silence on the crowd of students, for no one dared open his mouth. Harry and Theodore were the last in line, and were too focused on keeping track of them in a dark evening, with the gamekeeper's light serving as a small beacon in the distance.

It was after he rounded a pronounced bent in the path that he saw it. Hogwarts castle, looming against the moonlit sky, its towers majestically dominating the highlands. It was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. This was disturbed by Hagrid yelling at students.

"No more'n four to a boat!" he called. Harry and Theodore eventually got onto a boat occupied by two girls, one sporting plain short brown hair, and the other auburn that seemed to shine in the moonlight. They shared the boat in awkward silence, but Harry did notice both girls stealing glances at his scar. Annoyed, he flattened his hair over it, after which they both blushed and looked away. One of them looked ready to say something when the gamekeeper ordered them to keep their heads down, as they entered into a dark, low tunnel.

Eventually, they reached an underground harbor, where they filed out of the boats. The orderly procession was briefly interrupted when Hagrid stopped to talk to a sniveling boy, but eventually they were all walking through the fresh grass until they reached the castle's imposing front door.

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?" he heard Hagrid shout. He glanced at Theodore and they both laughed, remembering the absurd bushy haired girl. However, their laughter got drowned out by Hagrid knocking thrice on the heavy door.

A stern looking, black haired witch promptly opened it, and seemed to be measuring them with one glance. "The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid intoned respectfully.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here." Harry could barely hear her over the commotion the students were making at the sight of the huge entrance hall though. It reminded him of what he had once seen when his class went in a field trip to Buckingham palace, though the flaming torches lining the walls and the magical atmosphere surrounding the whole castle made it seem ever more majestic.

As they walked through the magnificent corridor, they could make out the noise of hundreds of voices through a side door, but they were led into what looked like a miserable looking empty ante-chamber. The old witch, apparently Professor McGonagall, raised her voice to address them for the first time.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. While I happen to be head of Gryffindor, each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

At this, she glanced down at the students in the front of the throng with what seemed like a disapproving look, and then looked up and looked over the students as if looking for someone, until her gaze became focused on Harry himself. She looked slightly surprised. Harry frowned at this. Was he going to be gawked at here too, even by his teachers? And what was the need to look so sour, anyway? Living under such a head of house must be very depressing, he thought.

She soon collected her wits, however, for she continued. "I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly."

At this, she turned and exited, leaving behind a ponderous silence. Or rather, an almost silence, because the bushy haired girl from the train seemed to be muttering something to herself exceedingly fast, even though he couldn't make out what it was at that distance. Considering how nervous he himself was, he did feel a twinge of sympathy toward her, though his concerns were probably much different. Given what he had seen so far, he was rather dreading the end of his temporary anonymity.

He only noticed what was happening after several people ahead of him screamed. What seemed to be around twenty or so ghosts had just floated through a wall into the room. They seemed to be arguing among themselves. He wasn't roused from his thoughts fast enough to catch most of their discussion, but did hear one ghost, wearing a ruff and thights, ask the gathered students,

"I say, what are you all doing here?" Harry rolled his eyes at the question. From his look, the ghost seemed to be from hundreds of years ago. Surely he'd know by now what they were doing there, no?

"New students!" said another ghost, a fat little monk, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?" A few people nodded at this, which encouraged the friar to go on. "Hope to see you in Hufflepuff! My old house, you know."

Cutting short what seemed to be a promising start, Professor McGonagall re-entered the room.

"Move along now," her raspy voice rasped. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start." The ghosts starting floating out through another wall as she went on. "Now, form a line and follow me."

The students promptly obeyed, and in the confusion Harry got separated from Theodore. He could still make him out at the end of the line, though, and mouthed him a silent 'Good luck'. The taller boy grinned at him and nodded, and Harry turned forward and filed out the ante-chamber with the rest of the students.

What he saw next was enough to get his mind out of whatever nervousness was gripping him before. They had gone through a pair of double wooden doors into what must have been the Great Hall. It was the most amazing sight Harry had ever seen. The vast expanse was lit by thousands of floating candles. Four tables were laid along the hall's length, one for each of the Hogwarts' houses, and a fifth was set at the other end of the hall, perpendicular to the others. Harry assumed this was the staff table, for there sat the only adults in the room, bar Professor McGonagall herself.

But the most amazing thing was the ceiling. Or rather, the lack thereof, for while Harry assumed a real ceiling must be there, it seemed as though they were staring directly into the vast expanse of the heavens above. The moon and the stars were twinkling merrily at them in the for once cloudless sky, and Harry could not help but feel this was a sign of good things to come. The sight settled his heart and mind. He knew that his life would never be the same again, and for that he wanted to shout for joy.

His momentary bliss was disturbed when the boy behind him, who he vaguely recognized to be the sniveling boy Hagrid had stopped to talk early on, bumped into him. Harry had stopped in his wonder at the night, without even noticing. He blushed furiously at this and started walking faster to make up for the lost ground. Eventually, they reached the head table, where they forced a new line ahead of the professors, with the students all looking at them. Harry tried his best to look inconspicuous, despite knowing that it was all going to be for naught soon, anyway.

Oblivious to his worry, McGonagall was placing a four legged stool in front of them. After that, she placed the rattiest hat he had ever seen on its top. A instantly remembered his talk with Nott on the train, and he couldn't help but stare at it as it burst into song!

The hat's first words were lost on Harry, however. He searched for Theodore with his eyes, and found him behind one black boy who was looking around in awe. He had the most unbelieving look Harry had ever seen. He couldn't help but catch his eye and laugh. Theodore just shrugged, but he was grinning. Harry brought his attention back to the hat, which was just finishing its song.

"_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

The whole hall burst into applause at this, but Harry wasn't sure what to think. In the end he clapped half-heartedly, while the hat bowed to each of the four tables and then became still again.

Harry's nerves returned as the reckoning moment drew nigh. Professor McGonagall approached with a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pudgy faced little girl with her blonde hair in pigtails stumbled her way toward the stool, and put on the hat for a moment before it shouted "HUFFLEPUFF!"

This prompted cheers from the far right table, which she rushed to join. Harry really wished they could do this privately. It wasn't fair that they had to be exposed like this. It didn't help that he had no idea where he was going to go.

More students were sorted, including the brown haired girl who sat ahead of him in the boat, who turned out to be Tracey Davis, who was sent off to Slytherin. After a few students had been sorted, the bushy haired witch he met on the train, who he now knew to be "Granger, Hermione", was sorted into Gryffindor. Harry's gaze followed her into the Gryffindor table, where she was greeted boisterously by many of the older students. He cringed inwardly. They seemed to be much more enthusiastic than everyone else. The Slytherin table was the more subdued, followed by Ravenclaw, but even Hufflepuff didn't overdo it like that.

The girl who he'd seen in platform nine and three quarters saying goodbye to her family, Daphne (Greengrass, apparently), was also quickly sorted into Slytherin.

The boy who'd bumped into him earlier, who turned out to be called "Neville Longbottom" (Harry couldn't help but snort), also went to Gryffindor, but not before the hat took the longest time out of anyone else yet to put him there.

The other, auburn haired girl he shared the boat with, Morag MacDougal, was sent to Ravenclaw.

The blond boy whom he'd seen at Madam Malkin's, who turned out to be called Draco Malfoy, swaggered all the way to the seat, where he got sorted into Slytherin almost the instant the hat touched his head. He quickly joined the house table looking very pleased with himself.

It was Theodore's turn now. He walked up to the hat as a man might walk the long and final mile that takes the condemned to the gallows. He braced himself as he put the hat on his head, and Harry lost sight of his eyes. Time ticked, and Nott's face seemed to contort in a grimace a few times. It was just over a minute before the hat finally yelled "SLYTHERIN!"

Harry smiled and gave Ted a thumbs up as he strolled toward the Slytherin table like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. Theodore nodded and smiled, relieved, as he took a seat next to Tracey.

A couple of twin girls had just got sorted, one into Ravenclaw and the other to Gryffindor, when Professor McGonagall finally called for "Potter, Harry."

Harry imagined he didn't look any more cheerful than Nott as he strode toward the stool, the Great Hall having just erupted in whispers.

"Potter, did she say?"

The Harry Potter?"

He tried to block all that as he found himself looking at the ratty inside of the hat. A voice in his mind startled him.

"So, what have we here?" Harry made to talk, or at least 'think' back to the hat, but it interrupted him immediately. "No, don't worry Potter. You've a very interesting mind, but I know exactly where to put you. Do come talk to me sometime, and tell me how you've been enjoying SLYTHERIN!" This last word was shouted toward the whole hall.

Harry removed the hat from his head quickly and strode toward the Slytherin table, where the reaction to his sorting was seemingly mixed. Most people were clapping, some politely and others more enthusiastically, but a minority seemed to be casting him shifting and even hateful glances. He frowned, but walked valiantly on anyway.

"Saved you a seat," he heard Nott calling to him. "I knew you'd make it here." He seemed much more at ease now that he had been successfully sorted. A few of the students, including the Prefects, insisted on shaking his hand before he managed to sit down.

The first thing he did after he got himself comfortable was looking at the high table, where he noticed a man with long, oily hair giving him a rather sour look. He asked the second year sitting ahead of him who he was.

"He's our head of house, Professor Snape. He teaches potions, and he's really strict, but don't worry about it, he is great to us. It's the others who have to fear him." She smirked. "Esther Heathcliff, by the way, Potter. Can't say this was expected, but it's nice having you here." She glanced at the Gryffindor table and smirked.

Harry thanked her absent-mindedly, thinking to himself that if that was his head of house, he may have avoided McGonagall but wasn't sure of having gotten a much better deal. He was jerked out of his thoughts by a black boy named Blaise Zabini, who had just been sorted into Slytherin, sitting on his other side. He did his best to welcome him, but the great hall fell silent, and Harry looked to the head table for the source of this silence. Apparently Blaise had been the last of the first years to be sorted. The headmaster rose to speak.

* * *

And here we are, the first of hopefully many more chapters to come. I'd appreciate it if you took the time to review. I especially welcome constructive criticism, by which I mean actual concrit, not a torrent of insults disguised as such. But I love every review I may get, so if you don't feel up to leaving concrit, anything is fine. I'd just like to know what you think.

Until there then.


	2. Chapter 2

I'd like to start by thanking everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I appreciate every word. I'd also like to thank everyone at DLP who helped me improve this chapter to its present state.

I have a few acknowledgments to make, but I'll wait for the end so as not to spoil anything.

Once again, some dialogue will be taken from PS. Needless to say, I don't own that or any other component of the Harry Potter franchise.

* * *

_"I prefer roses, my love, to my Country,_

_And rather magnolias I love_

_Than glory and virtue."_

_Ricardo Reis  
_

The headmaster was looking at the students like he wanted nothing more than to reach out and give each of them a big hug. It was vaguely creepy.

"Welcome," he intoned. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"Thank you!"

The headmaster sat down calmly as many people clapped and cheered. Harry's own table was mostly clapping politely, but Harry was just wondering what had just happened. Why was a string of random words grounds for clapping? In the end he went along with it, but he couldn't help to wonder about the man's sanity.

He did hear Blaise mutter next to him "Totally bonkers…", so he could feel some comfort in the fact that he wasn't the only one struck by the unreality of the situation.

In his disbelief, he didn't even notice the welcoming feast magically appearing on the table, and was startled to find a delicious looking fried chicken in front of his very eyes. He half expected it to be suddenly snatched away from him and given to a fat relation, leaving him to make do with the bare crumbs. But then he remembered he was at Hogwarts, where food just appeared in front of him and there were no Dursleys. He smiled as he reached for the succulent fowl ahead. Life wasn't so bad after all.

Nott was too focused on attacking a huge pork leg to notice anything around him, but the boy on the other side was looking at him with a strange expression.

"Why are you wearing that goofy grin, Potter? Do you like fried chicken that much?" He then paused and extended his hand. "Blaise Zabini, by the way, but you probably already know that." Harry took his hand and replied.

"Harry Potter, and you probably know that as well.

"And it's not about chicken Blaise." He paused to reconsider. "Then again, maybe it is. Maybe life is just a big chunk of fried chicken, and I'm about to take in a mouthful."

And he did!

Blaise just looked back as if he did not know what to say to that. Harry thought that right now, the other boy thought he was just as mad as Dumbledore, but as the delicious meat juices hit his tongue he just couldn't care, though he could see Theodore was chuckling at Zabini's face. The girl on his left diagonal, whom he recognized from the train station was Daphne, wasn't so shy.

"Are you alright in the head Potter? That was the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard in my life!" There was no malice in her voice, but she did seem to think there was something wrong with him. He quickly swallowed.

"I don't think I've ever been better in my life…" he paused. "Daphne Greengrass right?"

She nodded. "Nice memory you've got there."

Harry shrugged. "Well, you were on platform nine and three quarters when I got in."

He felt like testing the waters, so he pointedly glanced at Dumbledore as he finished. "I think there are other people whose mental stability you should worry about before mine."

Daphne, along with Blaise and Theodore who were listening in by now followed his gaze and all burst out laughing after a second. Harry did glance long enough for the Headmaster to beam at him creepily and nod, after which he quickly averted his gaze, flustered. He hoped Dumbledore couldn't tell what he had been saying about it.

Everyone sort of focused on their food after this. Harry wasn't lying, it he had never been better in his life, except perhaps before his parents died, but he couldn't remember that could he? A flighty shadow passed over his face, and he wondered if he should feel anything about being in the same house as his parents' killer.

But he soon returned to elation. It was the first time in his life he was having a civil conversation with people who didn't mind his presence. These kids didn't look like dark wizards in the making. He sighed contentedly as he finished the pudding he had chosen for desert. Theodore had just finished, but all other first years he could see were still enjoying the tasty delicacies on the table.

Harry took the time to survey his professors on the high table, wondering who taught what. He knew Snape taught Potions, and next to him sat Professor Quirrell, who he remembered from the Leaky Cauldron.

He groaned. He was starting to feel a headache coming on. He wondered whether wizards had anything equivalent to aspirin.

The people around him were all finishing now, and the heavy feast was taking its toll on Harry, making him wish for a bed above all else.

However, that would have to wait, as just as the deserts magically disappeared from the table, the headmaster rose again. While he was quite possibly insane, he obviously also commanded a lot of respect, for everyone went quiet almost at once.

"Ahern -- just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

For some reason, this last part seemed to be directed at the Gryffindor table.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

"So, if you want to die a very painful death it's okay to go there?" Theodore muttered to him. Harry bit his lip, though he did question the wisdom of keeping anything that could cause you to 'die a very painful death' in a school full of children. There mustn't be any lawyers in the wizard world.

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" the Headmaster ended rather cheerfully, but Harry couldn't help but notice the other teachers' smiles had become rather artificial, and some of the older students around him rolled their eyes.

Oblivious to all this, Dumbledore gaily flicked his wand, causing a golden ribbon to flow out of it. It rose high above the tables, seemingly losing itself in the starry dome above, but it soon twisted into words.

"Everyone pick their favorite tune," followed Dumbledore, "and off we go!"

And to Harry's amazement, so they did, singing a song more absurd than he thought was possible for the human mind to conceive.

"_Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,_

_Teach us something please,_

_Whether we be old and bald_

_Or young with scabby knees,_

_Our heads could do with filling_

_With some interesting stuff,_

_For now they're bare and full of air,_

_Dead flies and bits of fluff,_

_So teach us things worth knowing,_

_Bring back what we've forgot,_

_Just do your best, we'll do the rest,_

_And learn until our brains all rot."_

Harry got two words out before deciding he refused to utter such nonsense. He opted for just moving his lips in a convincing imitation of singing. He wasn't the only one, for the ruckus of the singing around him was suspiciously lower than it was from the middle of the hall.

Due to the lack of anything resembling a tune, everyone finished the song at different times. A pair of redhead twins from Gryffindor, whom Harry recognized from the barrier to the platform, were the last to finish as they sung along to a very slow funeral march. Harry wished the wankers would just finish and put everybody out of their misery, but Dumbledore was happy to encourage them, conducting the last few lines with his wand. When it was finally over, the headmaster was one of those who clapped loudest, but to Harry's dismay, most people followed him, apparently being all tone deaf.

"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

In normal circumstances, Harry would've reeled from being treated like cattle, but his sleepiness combined with the headmaster's obvious senility inspired him to feel charitable.

A Slytherin prefect who introduced himself simply as Heathcliff, and whom Harry deduced was probably the brother of the girl he'd sat ahead of at the table, for they did look remarkably alike, gathered the first years around him. He seemed far from pleased with his assignment, but tried not to let it show as he led them down the staircases, seemingly into the very bowels of the castle. Harry took care to memorize the way; he didn't want to get lost in the morning.

Eventually they reached a bare stone wall. Heathcliff raised their attention. "This is the entrance to our common room. You'll be well advised not to let this knowledge spread." He glanced at them with what was intended to be vaguely menacing, but delivered by a pimple faced fifteen year old, it clearly fell somewhat flat. Still, the general message was conveyed.

"You must speak the password to enter the room. If any of you lets that out, you'll regret ever being born. The password changes regularly, but right now it's 'desire the right'." At those words, the wall moved aside to let them into a long room with a low ceiling. It was dimly lit by green tinted lamps, and a fire was crackling on the fireplace below an intricate tapestry, warming the various older Slytherin sitting around and making the cold stone walls seem less foreboding. This was going to be his home for the next seven years. He felt a surge of happiness inside him. This was it!

Heathcliff woke him of his musings by directing them towards their dormitories, the boys to one side and the girls to the other. They reached a dark room, with a window to what must have been the bottom of the lake, because he could see the moonlight filtered through the murk.

Six beds waited for them, as did their trunks. Harry bolted towards his, taking the bed farther down the dorm. Theodore took the bed on his side, and Blaise on Theodore's side, after which followed either Crabbe or Goyle (Harry had forgotten which was which), then Draco Malfoy and finally the other member of the brawny duo. Harry was just finishing getting dressed when Malfoy himself came up to him.

"So you're Harry Potter! You could've said so in Madam Malkin's you know?" He then drew himself up as if he was making some grand pronouncement. "I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy. And these two are Crabbe and Goyle, he said, pointing to his two friends."

Harry still had not seen anything to dispel his first impression of Draco, but he hadn't really done anything to him, and he _was_ going to have to live with him, so he thought he might as well be polite. He took Malfoy's hand back.

"Well, you didn't ask. I guess it goes without saying that I'm Harry Potter now." Malfoy chuckled and withdrew back to his trunk for his own dressings. Harry approached Theodore.

"Well, you made it. How are you feeling now?" he inquired. Theodore had been pretty anxious to get into Slytherin.

"I hope I don't regret it. But so far it's much better than I thought."

Blaise approached them, fully ready for bed. "Potter, you know you must have surprised a lot of people ending up here. What gives? Don't get me wrong, I'm delighted," Blaise grinned, "but you're gonna raise a few eyebrows."

Harry shrugged. "Why would I want to be anywhere else?" He quickly hopped into bed and started drawing his curtains. "Night Blaise, night Ted."

He heard Theodore's outraged voice. "Ted?" Blaise laughed, and they both bade him goodnight. He barely heard him as he turned over on his stomach and fell asleep almost immediately. However, when he woke up the next morning, his sheets were crumpled and he felt much more tired than he should have.

* * *

He was the first to wake up. At least he was used to getting up early, having so often had to cook breakfast for the Dursleys. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and quickly dashed to the bathroom where he performed his morning ablutions. When he returned, he saw Theodore and one of Malfoy's goons were already up. Ted looked like he had barely slept at all. Harry made towards him.

"Are you alright?" He didn't look very put off by it, but Harry thought he might as well check.

"I'm great." Theodore grinned slightly and shrugged. "I told you I like to wander around at night. I just had to take a look around the castle." Harry's chin just dropped at Ted's rather cavalier attitude towards curfew.

"Oh don't worry, I told you I'm used to sneaking around. At least here the floors aren't wooden."

Harry shrugged. "Well, if you think you can do it without getting caught… But you look horrible."

Theodore shuddered. "Yea, I got a bit lost" he said, looking down sheepishly. "But don't worry, after I wash up and have a pot of coffee, I'll be as good as new."

And indeed he was. After Ted was finished, they left the common room towards the great hall and the delicious breakfast it contained. In the common room, they stumbled upon a girl from their year, whom Harry recognized as Pansy Parkinson, though she still felt the need to introduce herself. She was a bit haughty, but Harry shrugged that off. With the taller boy practically sleepwalking beside him, Harry was left to make small talk with the girl. He learned she was Malfoy's friend even before coming to Hogwarts, their parents apparently being rather close. He wondered how many more people knew each other before coming here, and suddenly felt very alone. They soon arrived at the breakfast table, though, and his worries were soon forgotten. Besides, hadn't Theodore told him he hardly ever met anyone growing up?

The three of them sat together, as Theodore immediately jumped towards the coffee. They ate in silence as the great hall started to fill in. Ted looked more up to form now that the coffee was kicking in, and Pansy was talking to Draco, who had arrived in the interim, leaving him to his thoughts. He wondered what his classes would have in store for him. Part of him was afraid. It had been such a short time ago he even learned he was a wizard. He was terrified of being unable to perform magic after all, despite all evidence to the contrary.

This cold feeling in his stomach was interrupted by Professor Snape, who was doling out their timetables. He handed Harry his own without sparing him a glance. Indeed, it seemed as if his head of house was deliberately trying to avoid facing him. Harry shrugged. Whatever his problem was, he'd cross that bridge when he got to it.

A quick glance at the newly handed out parchment told his first class would be transfiguration. Being finished, he rose.

"C'mon Ted, let's get going. We still need to find the classroom." Ted shook his head at his new nickname, but there was no malice in it.

"I think I passed by it last night…"

They did manage to reach it without major trouble, though apparently the school was different at day than at night. Must've been those moving staircases.

A big girl Harry remembered was called Millicent Bullstrode was already there. Theodore headed to the back of the room, and Harry went along, thinking staying out of view was probably a good idea, especially given who he had been told taught this class.

The room slowly filled with the first year Slytherins, and exactly as the clock struck the hour, Professor McGonagall entered the room. Harry was still wary of her, but she seemed over what she thought so queer, for she didn't spare him a second glance. She started the class by giving them a strict warning.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

She proceeded to change her desk into a cow and back again. And that, that was amazing. He'd seen magic at work in everyday things, but this sort of power over nature, to be able to change the fundamental nature of something in that fashion… that was the most amazing thing he'd ever seen. He was soon brought crashing back to earth when McGonagall saw fit to cool their enthusiasm.

"I'm afraid none of you will be changing desks into livestock any time soon. Though if you are able to press forward in this class to NEWT level, I will be happy to guide you along that path." She said, as if she didn't really expect any of them to.

She proceeded to give them the theory on basic transfigurations. It was not easy, but Harry followed with rapt attention. This was magic, and he was determined.

Eventually, the professor supplied each of them with a matchstick, and instructed them to try transfiguring them into a needle.

While most people started attempting it immediately, Harry paused for a minute to collect his thoughts. He buried his face in his hands, prompting Theodore to whisper to him.

"Are you alright?" Harry just nodded back and mumbled.

"I'm fine. Just thinking." Ted shrugged and went back to his attempts, and Harry started looking over his notes for something he remembered from a few minutes ago. Yes, that was it. He thought he could do it. He waved his wand over the matchstick and muttered the right words, but to his dismay nothing happened. He frowned. He thought he'd done everything right. Looking around, however, no one was having any better luck than him, so that comforted him somehow. Still, he wanted to show he could do it, confirm to himself that yes, he was a wizard and deserved to be in this world, away from his degenerated relatives. With a surge of determination, he tried again, striving to make every movement as precisely as possible. His memory went over everything he'd just heard in the class. As he finished of his last movement, the matchstick wood seemed to shine, and he watched it turn to metal in front of his eyes. Sadly, the head remained, so he now was in possession of the world's first match-needle. That didn't stop Ted from voicing his enthusiasm.

"Damn, you did it!" the girl on his left, Tracey Davis, exclaimed. She'd let her voice get carried away, which prompted the professor to come down upon them like a hawk.

"Yes, Ms. Davis, is there anything you need help with?" Tracey blushed and looked down, but managed to have the presence of spirit to reply.

"No, m'am, but Harry's done it…" The whole class turned and looked at him, and Harry flinched under so many looks. He couldn't blame the brunette for announcing it, given the circumstances, but he wished she'd contained her enthusiasm. McGonagall looked upon Harry's match with skepticism, and Harry promptly replied.

"Not really, it's still got the head on it…." McGonagall frowned as she picked his match-needle, and reluctantly conceded.

"In spite of that, a very impressive job for a first try Mr. Potter. Two points to Slytherin." Harry frowned, but McGonagall put down the match and turned to the class before he was able to say anything in reply. She announced class was over, and their assignment was changing the matchstick into a needle flawlessly. The class groaned at their first piece of homework, but Harry still thought something was amiss. His brow was furrowed deep in thought as he walked with Theodore to History of Magic.

He only noticed Malfoy skipping up to them when he was right behind.

"I couldn't believe McGonagall back there Potter. That was worth much more than two points you know?

"McGonagall has it in for Slytherins. She's Gryffindor's head of house, of course. My father warned me about her, she pretends she's really fair, but she won't give any extra points to us if she can avoid it…"

Harry "hmm"ed. Malfoy may have been right and it was just that, but he couldn't get the look she'd given him back before the sorting, or the one from just now, out of his head at all. It was there that he vowed he'd show her he was worth something, Slytherin or not.

Before he could say anything, however, they reached the History of Magic classroom, where they were surprised by the sight of a ghost hovering above the teacher's table.

That class was easily the most boring one Harry had ever sat through. Professor Binns apparently had one day simply left his body behind in the teacher's lounge and kept on teaching, such was his single-minded devotion to his field. Unfortunately, that devotion didn't quite reach the point where he was able to motivate his students, or indeed, keep them awake. Halfway through the lecture, Harry just tuned the man out and started reading the relevant chapters from _A History of Magic_. While Bagshot was Binns' equal in excitement, she managed to be his superior in brevity, so Harry thought he was coming out on top.

Ted spent the whole lecture staring out the window with a dopey smile on his face, and was obviously in his own world. Blaise was playing Tic-Tac-Toe with Daphne, and everyone was doing something other than listening to Binns. Fortunately, he seemed oblivious.

* * *

The week just ran past him after that. Due to his experience gardening for his degenerate Aunt, Herbology wasn't as much of a bother as it might have otherwise been, though he had to question the wisdom of making this class mandatory. He began to suspect that the whole reason it was so was to bring some of his more pampered classmates to the ground, so to speak. Certainly Draco Malfoy had never weeded out a garden. Though mostly everyone, except himself and, oddly enough, Millicent Bullstrode, struggled a bit with the 'gardening' elements. Of course, for their first few classes they didn't do much of anything with any spectacularly magical plants, so the task wasn't that different from ordinary gardening. Though seeing Ted hold a spade was hilarious.

The class they had most reminiscent of muggle school was astronomy, where they'd climb up the appropriately named Astronomy Tower, every Tuesday night, to gaze at the night skies and learn the movements and positions of the planets and stars. What relevance this had to practicing magic, no one ever told him, but he thought it was best just to go along with it.

Harry hated charms since the first minute, when the tiny Professor Flitwick was so excited to read his name in the roll call, he fell down from the pile of books he'd climbed atop to be seen by everyone. He found the small man entirely too cheerful. Ted seemed to have a flair for the subject though.

Life in Hogwarts also had some less pleasant aspects. One was the caretaker, Filch, and his security cat, Mrs. Norris. He knew Hogwarts better than anyone, and with his feline companion was always roaming the halls for students breaking one rule or another.

Peeves the Poltergeist also roamed the castle, and aside from his feud with Filch, was content with spreading mayhem. Fortunately, the Bloody Baron, the Slytherin House Ghost, was the only one who could control him, so he mostly left them alone.

However, there was something much worse than Peeves and Filch put together.

One afternoon, he was walking to the Great Hall from the library with Blaise, Theodore had gone off to have some "me time", as he put it. Blaise was quite good at History, for some reason, making him a good person to have with when doing such homework, and Harry did enjoy talking to the quick witted boy, who provided an occasionally welcome contrast to Ted's moodiness.

They came upon a shortcut side passage Ted had told him about. Blaise made to open the door when Harry's Dursley upbringing kicked in and made him recognize something was amiss. He wasn't fast enough, however, to stop what happened next. Suspended (he guessed magically) from the doorframe were two goblets filled with weirdly colored liquids. Before he knew it, they were turned over and a cold wave of the unknown potion washed over himself and Blaise.

This was a magical version of something that he had experienced with his cupboard door before. He shuddered at what could be worse than the bucket of cold water he usually experienced. He found out as soon as he opened his eyes. Blaise's entire robes had been changed into Gryffindor red and gold. He looked down at his own, expecting to find the same, but they were still sporting the familiar silver and green. However, he did not have to wait long to find out his much worse fate.

The two redheaded twins, whom he knew from their brother's sorting to be Weasleys, came barging in from behind an old suit of armor, laughing like they'd just witnessed the world's funniest joke.

"Oh, what have we here George? Looks like Gryffindor house has a new acquisition." Blaise turned red at this and went for his wand, before realizing that he didn't know any magic that could be useful against two third years. The other twin looked at Harry.

"And look Fred, it looks like the Potters may be related to us after all." Harry realized what had happened with a ball of dread in his stomach. He slowly grabbed one tuft of his hair and lowered it down to his eyes, where sure enough, he saw it was just as orange as "Fred and George"'s own.

He just wanted to lunge at them, magic or no magic, but they quickly disappeared laughing before Harry could gather his wits. He was beyond furious. He wanted nothing more than break their stupid grins and cheerfulness down.

The incident did show his devotion to transfiguration was paying off, for he managed to transfigure Blaise's robes not to their original Slytherin colors, but at least to a non-descript maroon that wouldn't get him kicked out of the Slytherin common room. He then waited for the other boy to bring back some hair color restoring potion he'd ask one of the girls for, as he absolutely would not be seen by anyone else looking like that. As it was dinner time by now, Blaise was only there an hour later, during which Harry had time to stew in his own rage for a while. He thought he had left this kind of thing behind when he left the Dursleys, but apparently assholery was everywhere. He wouldn't take it lying down this time though. He promised himself he'd have the last laugh.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was just as much of a joke as Quirrell was. Not only did he constantly stammer, making it hard to understand him and even harder to focus, but his classroom stank of garlic. He found himself airing his grievances to Ted as they left the classroom on Thursday evening.

"You know, they don't like us to talk about it, but there is a curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts position." Ted informed him when they were on their way to the Great Hall. "For decades, no one has held the position for more than one year, and some of them also left this world when they left it. So, Dumbledore has trouble finding anyone competent to teach it."

Harry mused at this information. Was it even possible to put a curse on a position like that? Couldn't it be more like a self-fulfilling prophecy? People thought there was a curse, so they didn't plan on teaching for more than one year anyway… Still, something lurked on the back of his mind.

"I've heard Quirrell wasn't always this bad though. Apparently, last year he went to get some 'practical experience', and that's what turned him into the wreck he is now. Couldn't Dumbledore see that he wasn't fit to teach anything, much less Defense?"

Ted shrugged.

"No one really knows why Dumbledore does anything."

"Yea, probably not even himself," Harry added, his brow furrowed. "Guess I'll just have to learn this thing by the book, too."

"Don't worry, you help me out in Transfiguration and I'll let you use me as a test dummy." Ted added wryly. Harry chuckled as they finally arrived at the Hall. Dinner was calling.

* * *

Next morning they had potions with the Gryffindors. Aside from the moving stairs, Harry never had any problem finding his way around Hogwarts after the first time. Sometimes he served as a guide for some of his more distracted housemates; fortunately, given how close to the Slytherin common room Snape's classroom was, they didn't need much guidance, and Harry was free to walk at his own leisurely pace. Ted seemed to be looking forward to the class, and word on the street was that Snape was rather liberal with points given to Slytherin. Harry wasn't so sure; he remembered the Potions Master's strange attitude towards him, and thought it better to lie low.

They arrived reasonably early at the classroom, and Harry was free to bask in its grim décor. Preserved remains of animals were stored in jars all over the walls, including what Harry thought was a brain. The Gryffindors arrived slightly later, and it seems they also knew about Snape's habit of favoring Slytherins, because they all eyed each other warily, as if they were reminding themselves not to step out of line.

Eventually, Snape billowed into the room from his office. He started taking roll call without any greeting, and paused when he reached Harry's name.

"Ah, yes," he softly uttered, "Harry Potter. Our new -- celebrity." Harry blushed at this and tried very hard to look inconspicuous while still answering his call. What was this guy's problem? Wasn't he supposed to favor Slytherins anyway? Or did his dislike for him manage to override that.

However, Snape soon had his black eyes focused on the class as a whole.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking," he began. Harry had to give him that, he sure knew how to work a crowd, his soft whisper keeping them all in a silence pregnant with expectation. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses.... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death -- if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

No one really knew what to say, though Harry thought Snape's little speech did manage to make him interested into a subject he found uninteresting at first. Some were a little more enthusiastic, as the Gryffindor girl he'd met on the train, Hermione Granger, was on the edge of her seat and seemingly eager to start bottling fame.

They were to form pairs to work on a potion, and perhaps to punish him for living, Snape put him with the Granger girl. She clearly hadn't forgotten him either, and seemed just as pleased with the arrangement as he himself was. After they'd gotten the required ingredients, she threw him a glance that reminded him of Aunt Petunia, before she started lecturing him about the boil curing potion they were going to be brewing.

"I can read just fine you know?" he said as he started crushing snake fangs. "Just start stewing those," he said, pointing at a heap of horned slugs.

They kept working in cold civility. Aside from that, the class went without incident, except when the Gryffindor Longbottom manage to melt Seamus Finnegan's cauldron and send his potion spilling down into the floor, forcing everyone to stand on their stools. Apparently the potion wasn't very good to begin with, because it actually gave Longbottom, who got it all over himself, red painful looking boils.

"Idiot boy!" Snape spat, as he vanished the spilled potion with a single spell. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Longbottom could only whimper at this. Snape went on.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," he spat at Finnegan. Then he turned on himself and Granger, and Harry expected the worst. Snape himself looked thorn between two conflicting impulses, but in the end house pride must have won out, because after a brief pause he glared at the bushy haired girl.

"You, Granger, why didn't didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's one point from Gryffindor."

Granger looked flabbergasted, and Harry himself thought that wasn't very fair, but having grown up with things like that and worse, he just accepted such unfairness as a part of life. He was glad that for once he wasn't their target.

Granger looked ready to protest, but afraid Snape would, if given the opportunity, change his mind and turn on him, Harry threw her a glare that probably conveyed its message, for she backed down, even if she was clearly angry.

She barely spoke for the rest of the class, but Harry did his best to take command and brew what he thought was an acceptable potion.

Finally free for the weekend, and having managed to mostly evade Snape's wrath, Harry was in a good mood as they filed out of class.

As they had a free afternoon, he just wandered down to the grounds with Ted and Daphne. It was a beautiful late summer day; the sun was high in the sky shedding its light on the soft grass, and as the fresh breeze blew through his hair, Harry leant his head against an old beech tree as his body lay on the soft ground, and enjoyed his first Dursley free weekend in almost a decade. The sunlight danced on his face as the tall branches undulated in the breeze, and he felt, in that fleeting moment, like a forgotten god. He plucked a sourgrass flower and happily chewed on it.

He felt Ted and Daphne sit on each of his sides.

"So, Potter, what was that..." Daphne started but Harry interrupted her without a thought.

"Just call me Harry. Potter makes me feel old," he grinned. He Ted chucked, and he hoped Daphne smiled, though he didn't bother enough to open his eyes and check. HaHH

Her voice did seem light hearted.

"Harry," she stressed, "what was that about with Snape when he read the roll call."

Harry frowned. The last thing he wanted to think of right now was Snape, but he was still puzzled about it, so he thought he might as well dive in. He shrugged.

"Good question. He looks at me like he hates my guts, though I've no clue why. I was half expecting he was going to lash at me like he did at Longbottom, but I guess house pride won out." He paused. "He did partner me with Granger, which in a way might have been worse."

Ted patted him on the shoulder.

"There, there, it's over now."

Harry laughed and, grabbing his hand, pulled him down to his level.

"Pratt."

This time Daphne did laugh, and stretched her legs lazily. A bird was twittering its song in the branches above. If only he could spend his life away in moments like this.

* * *

Alright, I'd like to thank KrzaQ and Sesc (or was it Silens?) on DLP for helping me with the Weasley twins' insipid prank. Also thanks for an unwitting help with that from Mary Katherine Ham.

I also must credit Brad Neely for the term "security cat" as applied to Mrs. Norris. You should check his Philosopher's Stone movie dubbing on youtube, called Wizard People, Dear Reader. It's hilarious.

I'd like to remind everyone that while not a lot happened here, I need these introductory chapters to lay the foundation for the rest of the story.

Once again, I'd love it if you took the time to review. I appreciate concrit, but _it is not 'required'._ I appreciate every word, so get hung up on that. I just want to know what you think.

I hope you enjoyed it, and until the next chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

Alright, this chapter came a bit late, both because I've had some RL distractions and because some scenes in it gave me a lot of struggle to come out.

Despite that, this _is_ mostly a filler chapter, I admit. However, I'm pleased to announce that the real plot will start next chapter.

Same caveats as usual apply, especially regarding some of the dialogue being taken from PS.

* * *

Chapter 3

_"Robert, there's a war in France;  
Everywhere men bang and blunder,  
Sweat and swear and worship Chance,  
Creep and blink through cannon thunder.  
Rifles crack and bullets flick,  
Sing and hum like hornet-swarms.  
Bones are smashed and buried quick.  
Yet, through stunning battle storms,  
All the while I watch the spark  
Lit to guide me; for I know  
Dreams will triumph, though the dark  
Scowls above me where I go.  
You can hear me; you can mingle  
Radiant folly with my jingle.  
War's a joke for me and you  
While we know such dreams are true!__"_

_Siegfried Sassoon_

Saturday morning found Harry walking alone to the library. His early bird habits were not shared by his dorm mates—or many of his housemates, for that matter; the house table was practically deserted. He downed a piece of toast and a cup of white coffee before he headed to his ultimate destination, the library.

The library, of course, had even less people in it than the breakfast table. That was fine. It's not like people could talk freely there anyway. The old bookshelves made the age of those walls clearer to him than ever, and he felt himself transported to the world of fantasy castles he so often dreamt of escaping to during his childhood. But here he was. It still made him grin uncontrollably.

As he walked deep into the library's recesses, he realized he was not alone after all. That Gryffindor, Granger, was there too, poring over a huge tome. Harry would have made a snide remark, except he was going to do exactly the same thing, so that'd a bit unfair.

As he penetrated further, he spotted someone whom he was much happier to see, his year mate Tracey Davies, who was reading from what appeared to be _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_, and jotting down notes with a frown on her face. It was, true the girl had gawked at him in the boat trip to the school, but she was after all a kid who had probably been raised with all sorts of Boy-Who-Lived tales, so in the interest of harmony, Harry would let it pass. It was the adults who didn't really have any excuse. He hadn't talked much to her, her outburst in Transfiguration notwithstanding, and he thought he might as well make up for that now. He headed towards her table.

"Hello Tracey," he said cheerfully. "Mind if I sit here."

She looked up from her notes, surprised to see him there.

"Oh, hello Harry. What're you doing here this early?" she said as she smiled at him and pulled her stuff towards her, creating a space for Harry's own junk. Harry laid his backpack on the table and extracted his own copy of the Transfiguration textbook.

"The same as you, I think," he answered. "I was beginning to think I was the only one in our house who likes to do something with his morning."

Tracey smiled. "I've always had to get up pretty early back home," she informed him.

She paused, seeming to have an internal debate over what she was going to say, but eventually, under Harry's inquisitive look, she went on.

"You were really impressive in Transfiguration," she started, clearly embarrassed about what was coming next. "I've been trying to get my matchstick to change into a needle forever now, but I've only been able to make it slightly silver," she finished, biting her lip.

She frowned and seemed even more conflicted. Harry was pretty sure what she was getting at though, and went ahead to spare her the trouble of saying it.

"I've been working at it for a while now, and I think I got the gist of it down. I can try to help you if you want," he said, hoping he'd gotten her intentions right.

He probably did, for she beamed at that.

"Thank you, Harry! I don't really want to disturb your study, though," she said, pointing at his own Transfiguration textbook.

"Oh, don't worry about it, I've already got all the stuff for next class done, I was just going to read ahead some. But, that can wait," he said.

Tracey seemed impressed at that, but she just nodded.

Harry started from the basics. In truth, getting this opportunity to help someone—teach her, in fact, since she didn't seem to have gotten a lot from class at all, was something he had been looking for. If he could make her understand this, he would know he definitely had it figured out.

He found out he actually enjoyed it. He'd helped Ted with some things already, but with him it was mostly plugging holes than actually getting the basics down. McGonagall's teaching style was a bit oblique, so Harry wasn't that surprised that some people didn't get it. By the time they were finished, it was almost lunch time, but Tracey was grinning proudly at her own new transfigured needle, and he had hardly felt the time go by.

They were packing their bags, ready to meet up with the rest of the house for lunch in the Great Hall, when Harry noticed Tracey looking at him strangely, like she was hitching to ask him something. Harry frowned, thinking it was going to be some boy-who-lived fangirl business, but he was to his surprise found out it was something completely different.

"Harry," she started. She paused for a bit, hesitating, but then finally blurted out.

"Have you gotten any trouble from being a half-blood, at all?" she asked, giving him a look like her life was hanging on his answer.

Harry blinked. He felt he probably would think this was worth the bombast if he knew what she was talking about.

"What's a half-blood?" he asked, conscious that this made him look rather ignorant. He just couldn't think of anything else to say.

If Tracey thought that, though, she didn't show it. Rather, she seemed to become even more embarrassed.

"Right, I keep forgetting you were raised by muggles," she bit her lip, as if searching for a way to explain.

"You know how some wizards don't like wizards whose parents are muggles?" she asked.

Harry nodded. That was one of the first things he learned about the Wizarding World, after all, thanks to his dear housemate Draco Malfoy.

"Well, even if your parents aren't muggles, if your grandparents weren't all wizards, you are not a pureblood, like them. You're a half-blood."

Harry nodded again to show he was listening.

"That's us," she said, and now Harry was really listening. "Me because my mother is a muggle, you because your grandparents on your mother's side were.

"And well, they look down on us too, some of them. And well, you know how Slytherin is all about pureblood..."

"Has anyone said anything to you?" Harry interrupted her. He wasn't sure there was anything, but some of the older students did give off some weird vibes.

"Well, no one has really said anything. But, sometimes I feel they look down on me," she bit her lip. "Maybe I'm just imagining things…" she trailed.

"Well, until today, I didn't even know there was such a thing as a half-blood," Harry replied, "but even then, I think being the Boy Who Lived probably would erase that for me. Some of the older students though seem to give me weird looks, so who knows." He looked at her. "But if someone gives you grief about it, they weren't worth your time in the first place. They're the ones with a problem, Tracey."

They talked for a little more about it; Harry knew a lot about idiotic prejudice after all. At the end, as they finally walked to the Great Hall, Tracey seemed much happier with herself than she had been when he found her. Despite not having gone exactly according to his plans, Harry couldn't help but thing the morning had been put to a rather good use.

* * *

Soon there came a reason for much joy among the first years. A notice in the Slytherin common room announced that flying lessons were due to start next Thursday. Unfortunately, they were to be shared with Gryffindors, and Harry was sure something bad was going to happen. Years of living with the Dursleys had given him an almost instinctive sense of when things were about to go wrong. Besides, he did not much fancy the idea of getting his feet off the ground on something as fragile as a broom, magic or no magic.

If you were to believe his housemates, half of them were accomplished fliers; Draco Malfoy in particular was always complaining about how unfair it was that first years were not allowed on house Quidditch teams, and regaling them with tales of his airside escapades that almost always ended up in collisions with what he called "holocopters". Harry didn't bother to correct him, and took all stories with a whole salt shaker. If Dudley was anything to judge by, what people bragged about usually fell far short of their actual accomplishments.

Harry's feelings of dread only increased during that morning's breakfast, when the post owls swooped down into the great hall to deliver their loads. Malfoy got a package of sweets, as usual, which he showed off like it was some huge deal. Harry never got anything, obviously, but he had enough perspective to realize a few chocolates were hardly an amazing show of status.

However, the Gryffindor Neville Longbottom had also received something, and Malfoy just couldn't let him be. Harry was walking behind him with Ted, headed toward the Defense Against the Dark Arts class, when Malfoy stopped by the Gryffindor table and snatched a glass ball from Longbottom's hand. Finnegan and Weasley jumped to their feet, seemingly eager to fight Malfoy. The blond had apparently got into some altercation with them in the halls a couple of days ago; that was just typical Malfoy. As was this, come to think of it.

Further escalation was avoided when Professor McGonagall swooped in, addressing Malfoy.

"What's going on?"

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor," a rather overwhelmed Longbottom replied.

Malfoy, of course, immediately deflated, dropping the "Remembrall" back on the table.

"Just looking," he said, scurrying off with Crabbe and Goyle.

Harry couldn't help but see the entire exchange as a dark omen. Despite that, the day was relatively uneventful until they finally headed to the grounds for the flying lessons. The wind blew through Harry's hair, making it even more messy than usual, as he walked towards a flat lawn where several brooms were laying in the ground waiting for them.

Apparently, they were the first to arrive, so they just loitered around waiting for the Gryffindors to arrive. Harry sat on a rock and looked around, not pleased with what awaited him.

"Say, Ted, am I the only one with a feeling of impending doom?" he asked the taller boy from his stony seat. He never got to hear the answer, because the Gryffindors came running into the lawn, distracting everyone. Harry stood shortly thereafter, when the flying instructor, Madam Hooch, arrived. She watched them all with her piercing yellow eyes.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she yelled. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Harry did as instructed, despite the fact that his broomstick clearly had seen better days.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," Madam Hooch was telling them, "and say 'UP'".

Harry delved deep into his stoicism reserves. He would have to get through this, and the sooner the better. As he yelled 'UP', he was one of the few who whose broom had responded to summons. The only others were, surprisingly, Crabbe and Goyle, perhaps because they were too dumb to feel apprehension. After a few more tries, however, everyone managed to hold their broomstick in their hands.

Madam Hooch then proceeded to show them all how to correctly mount their brooms, walking up and down correcting everyone's grips. She told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years. This prompted laughs from the Gryffindors, making Harry roll his eyes. Madam Hooch raised her whistle to her lips.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," she said. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle: three, two…"

But Neville Longbottom's broom seemed too eager to get off the ground, and the Gryffindor was off before Madam Hooch could finish her count.

"Come back boy," she shouted, but Neville was rising too fast, straight up, twenty feet into the air. The boy was holding tight, afraid the heavy wind would knock him down to the ground, but his grip wasn't strong enough, and he was soon falling down to the ground, where he landed with a heavy thud. Harry cringed as he heard the crack from the boy's breaking wrist. His broom was still ascending, losing itself in the skies above the forbidden forest. Madam Hooch rushed towards the fallen Gryffindor, her face blanching.

"Broken wrist," Harry heard her mutter, confirming what he'd just figured. "Come on, boy, it's all right, up you get."

She turned to the rest of the class.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear," she said, and then proceeded to lead the tearful boy towards the hospital.

Malfoy broke into laughter as soon as she was out of sight.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?" he said, to laughs from his usual gang. Harry, however, wasn't paying attention to him. He saw a glimmer in the grass, and bent down to investigate.

Sure enough, Longbottom's Remembrall, whatever that was, laid there on the soft lawn. Harry stretched forth and picked it up. Just as he had finished straightening himself and was ready to put it in his pocket, the Gryffindor Ronald Weasley took a step in Harry's direction, facing him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Potter?" the redhead yelled at him. Sadly, since the wind was blowing at Harry's back, much of the intended effect was lost on the Gryffindors standing at Weasley's back. Nevertheless, Harry was irked.

"I'm taking it for safe-keeping," he retorted with as much dignity as he could muster, dropping it in his pocket. Weasley was not impressed.

"Safe-keeping? Yeah, right, more like he'll never see it back, eh, Potter? Give me that now," he said, increasingly flustered, and punctuated his demand by pulling out his wand.

Harry instinctively went for his. This idiot thought that because he was in Slytherin, he was going to steal the dumb thing. He really couldn't care less what Weasley thought as long as he kept it to himself, but now he had to nip this thing in the bud. Harry could never stand up to Dudley effectively, because he was forced to live with him, but he knew that was the key to make him leave you alone from watching other kids. Never let him get a foothold.

"Oh yeah? Or you'll do what?" Harry retorted. He had to buy time. He hadn't covered enough ground in Defense Against the Dark Arts to know any spells to use against the redhead, though he seriously doubted Weasley did either. However, he wanted to decisively end this before it began. As the redhead sputtered for an answer, confirming Harry's opinion that the wand drawing was just a bluff, Harry saw the sun's reflection on Weasley's robe buttons, and a great idea occurred to him.

He said a silent prayer for what he was about to do to work. He quickly raised his wand, and then brought it down in a straight line, with a few well practiced waves here and there, and carefully enunciated the words under his breath. Providence must have been on his side, for just as he had finished, a massive gust of wind blew on his back and Weasleys face. Harry saw instantly that his transfiguration worked; where once were buttons, now were only balls of string. These couldn't possibly hold the robe in place, and the heavy wind blew it back, exposing Weasley's underpants for the world to see. The Slytherins on Harry's sides erupted with laughter, as Weasley tried desperately to get his robe to close again, but the wind wasn't making his job any easier. Harry had been kind enough to leave the top button intact, which kept the garment close around the other boy's neck, but somehow Harry didn't think he would appreciate the gesture.

Eventually, Weasley managed to get his robe in order, with a blushing Granger transfiguring back the now dangling pieces of string into buttons, at which, Harry noted with pleasure, she had quite a harder time at than she would have liked, as her frowning face showed. The Gryffindors had been too busy helping the redhead to do anything, and they didn't want to provoke an all out rumble anyway. Weasley, however, was about to lunge back a Harry when Madam Hooch returned from the Castle.

"You're all still here, are you? I'm glad you knew better than to try any monkey business," she hollered at them as she approached. Weasley clearly made to say something, but Harry cut him off, extracting the Remembrall from his pocket.

"Madam Hooch, Longbottom dropped this when he fell off his broom," he said, holding the glass ball in front of him. Madam Hooch nodded and made for him to throw it back at her. He did, and she caught it with impressive dexterity.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter. Five points to Slytherin, for looking out for a fellow student's belongings," she said. The Gryffindors grumbled at this.

"But Madam Hooch…" Weasley tried to interject, but the flying instructor just cut him off.

"Not now, Mr. Weasley, we've wasted too much time already. We only have a few minutes left, but want you all to try floating a few feet above the ground, gently now," they all mounted their brooms again as she finished this. "One, two, three," she said, ending the sentence with a blow on her whistle.

They started floating, slowly rising above the ground, and Harry noted his fellow Slytherins were rather discreetly flying between him and the Gryffindors. Now that he was above the ground, flying wasn't nearly as bad as he expected. He liked feeling the wind on his face and the amazing freedom of being airborne. He ended up being admonished by Madam Hooch for trying to climb too high, but the lesson was over soon anyway. They disposed of their brooms and made their way back into the Castle. His fellow Slytherins were rather enthusiastic.

"That was brilliant, Harry. The look on his face when the wind blew his robe was just priceless," Daphne told him with a rather malicious grin on her face. "Not to mention, now we all know Weasley wears tighty-whities."

They all laughed at that. Even Malfoy patted him in the back. "Real smooth, Potter, got us five points to boot. Maybe you do belong here after all."

Harry wasn't exactly eager to get Malfoy's approval, and he thought the blonde had been just as much of an asshole as Weasley when he made fun of Longbottom's fall, but he would be lying to say it didn't give him an ego boost to see everyone congregating around him. It was the exact opposite of grade school.

"Where the hell did you get that idea, Harry?" Ted asked him as they reached the Castle and split off.

"Oh, I've been practicing Transfiguration a lot," he said, "and I had a moment's inspiration when I saw his buttons glisten in the sun."

"Wow, you _are_ really good a Transfiguration, aren't you? I still barely managed to turn that damn matchstick into a needle," Ted said.

"Don't worry. Here," he said, pulling open the door of an unused classroom, "I'll give you my best tips. I think I really figured this out this weekend."

"Oh, so that's what you were doing in the library all Saturday."

Harry nodded.

"That's right," he said as he sat down and produced his now several times changed matchstick. He motioned for Ted to sit down beside him and opened the textbook in front of them. "But after this, I want us to find some good hexes." Harry's voice hardened at this. "I don't want to have to depend on heat-of-the-moment inspiration if this happens again."

Ted nodded, grinning. "We won't have to look far. I told you I read a lot these past years. I know exactly where to look."

Harry nodded, grinning back, and proceeded to explain the basis behind the simpler transfiguration wand movements. Maybe omens were just Providence's way of letting him know the golden ball of opportunity was about to fly his way.

* * *

Weasley never spoke to him again, thankfully. Days seemed to blur as Harry entered into the routine of magical classes. He never stopped being amazed at the new things he learned he could do with a wave of his wand though. However, the magical world was not without his dangers.

One Friday night, as they lounged about in the common room, putting off bed time, Ted approached him with a secretive look.

"There's something you've gotta see," he whispered, taking care no one else would listen.

Harry raised his eyebrow.

"What, right now?" Harry asked, glancing at the wall clock to see it was five past ten, and thus, well after curfew.

"Oh, come on, Harry, you're not afraid of Filch are you? I've done this lots of times, just do as I tell you and we'll be fine."

Harry wasn't really afraid of Filch, but he was of the consequences of being caught by him. Still, Ted seemed so invested in this that he didn't have the heart to say no. He nodded slowly. Ted's face split into a grin as he did so.

"Great, let's just wait until these guys go to bed," he said, pointing out the few remaining occupants of the common room.

They waited quite long for the room to vacate, though at least they used the time to finish the homework they had for the weekend. Finally, the last of the occupants, a group of sixth years, left to their dormitory. Ted waited a couple of minutes to make sure they didn't return before he rose.

"Ready?" he asked with a grin. Harry got up with a sigh and followed him.

They left the common room and proceeded silently up the dark corridors. Ted kept checking his watch.

"Prefects are very predictable," he explained in a whisper. "They'll mostly do their rounds exactly the same every night."

Harry had to admit that the taller boy seemed to have crawled out from a spy movie. Not that he'd be flattered by the comparison. But the way he was able to move without a sound in the dark silence of the night was very impressive.

Despite the darkness, Harry was sure they would be spotted climbing the various stairways they went through. However, they managed to get off them in the third floor with no one the wiser. They took a right turn, and then, as they were passing a rather elaborate tapestry of what looked like a Goblin fight, something clicked in Harry's brain.

"Ted, this isn't _the_ third-floor corridor, is it?" Harry asked, wondering whether he'd misjudged his friend's mental stability.

Ted looked back over his shoulder and gave him what he thought was a rather self-satisfied smirk.

"The one and only, Harry. But don't worry, there is really no risk of death, painful or otherwise, as long as you're careful," he whispered back, and then after a thorough look around, gave a final lurching run towards a closed door at the end of the corridor.

"Somehow, that doesn't really reassure me, Ted," Harry replied, though he _was_ a bit reassured. If he was saying that, it was because he'd already gone in and lived to tell the tale. Still, no point in telling him that.

Ted ignored his words and stopped in front of the door. He whipped out his wand as Harry was closing in.

"Now, you're going to have to look fast. I'm just going to open the door a bit, so just stick your head in and pull back," Ted warned him.

Harry nodded, praying that Ted knew what he was doing.

"Alohomora," he heard the taller boy say, as he tapped the lock with his wand. Ted quickly pulled the handle, giving Harry a crack just wide enough to stick his head into, which Harry did reluctantly.

His reluctance was fully justified when he found himself staring into the yellow eyes of a very large dog. He also found such eyes looking at him sideways, for the dog had not one head but three. It was all he could do to not scream, but he didn't want to alert anyone, so he just pulled his head back as far as he could. Ted had been ready for that, for he quickly closed the door and tapped the lock with his wand again.

Harry looked at him slackjawed. He was going to speak, but Ted raised a finger to his lips and whispered.

"Let's get back first," and put his words into action by starting to move away from the door.

They managed to return to the common room fairly quickly, Harry remembering the way better than Ted himself. They would have been even faster if not for the need to avoid Filch's cat, which almost caught them before they sprinted out of the way and took a rather roundabout series of passages. Still, they'd made it.

"Desire the right," Harry said to the wall, something he always felt somewhat foolish doing. Still, it opened on command, letting them in.

Fortunately, the common room was still empty, so they wouldn't have to explain their arrival in the dead of night to anyone. They plopped down in the same chairs they were occupying right before they left.

"Explain," Harry sternly told Ted. He was fairly certain the other boy hadn't been trying to kill him, but he wondered just exactly what had crossed his mind to lead him in that question.

Ted looked back at him with an impish grin. He didn't even have the decency to look embarrassed.

"Oh, come on, I just figured they wouldn't really keep anything in the school that would kill a student just for looking at it. The door wasn't even locked magically."

Harry had to give him that. It _was_ weird, now that he thought of it.

"And I myself did what you just did, you know, and I was alone to boot," Ted continued. "The big brute has kind of a slow reaction time, anyway."

Harry grinned. It really didn't seem very bright. Maybe that was because the three heads fought each other for control. Whatever may be the case, one question came to Harry's mind now.

"Why would Dumbledore keep something like that in a school fool of young, edible children?" Harry asked, eyebrow raised.

Ted laughed.

"Gallows humor, Harry? Anyway, your theory that he is insane would seem to explain it. Probably one of his friends asked Dumbledore to watch over it while he was on vacation."

Ted stifled a yawn.

Harry wondered whether that was an attempt to forestall more discussion, but let it go, since he was almost asleep himself, now that the adrenaline rush had passed. He made his way towards the dorms with Ted, and punched his arm midway.

"That was for the scare, but," he grinned, "it was wicked."

Ted laughed softly, clutching his arm.

* * *

It seemed the school year had barely started when Halloween was upon them. His classes were getting progressively more challenging, but that was really okay. He just wished he could skip History of Magic and DADA to learn them on his own, but he had to take the good with the bad.

That afternoon, they started to learn to levitate objects in Charms. Everyone had been quite eager to try that. Harry had to admit that Flitwick wasn't as bad as he'd seemed at first, and he was starting to forgive his outburst in that first class.

Flitwick split them into pairs to start practicing the spell. He got paired with Daphne, for which he was quite thankful given he had found himself sitting next to Crabbe and was already dreading the possibility. Ted got partnered with Pansy Parkinson, which seemed to have Draco ticked off for some reason.

"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!" Flitwick said from at his pile of books. Harry wondered why he didn't just levitate himself. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too – never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."

Well, he didn't get very far. The feather could weigh 100 pounds for all the good his swishing and flicking did. No one else had much luck, until Ted managed to lift his feather five minutes before the end of class, which seemed to make Flitwick rather happy. Understandably, as having no one succeed would have been kind of a downer. They filed out of class rather cheerful for the Halloween feast.

"The weird thing is, I don't know if I'd be able to do it again if he'd ask me," Ted told him as they were descending the stairs towards the great hall. Once they arrived, all thoughts of the Charms lesson were forgotten.

Thousands of bats were flying all over the great hall, swooping down over the tables, which made a great effect, but Harry also thought was rather unhygienic. He'd be sore to cover his food. As they were sitting down, Harry glanced along the other house tables and couldn't help but notice Weasley looked rather constipated. He shrugged. Who cared about him anyway?

Harry was about to take a huge bite of turkey breast when Professor Quirrell came storming into the hall, looking like he'd just seen a ghost. He reached the high table, facing Professor Dumbledore, and slumped against a chair as he managed to talk.

"Troll—in the dungeons—thought you ought to know," he managed to say, before falling down on the floor, passed out.

The whole hall erupted in hysteria, and panic seemed about to set in until professor Dumbledore blew a dozen of firecrackers of the tip of his wand, getting everyone to restrain their fear for a while.

"Prefects, lead your houses back to the dormitories immediately." Dumbledore said, with an impressively loud voice for a man his age.

The Prefect Heathcliff rounded up the younger years, clearly displeased with his task. They were practically pushed out of the great hall when Harry remembered something that made him sure the Headmaster was insane.

"Say Heathcliff," Harry began, "Professor Quirrell said the troll was in the dungeons, right?"

"Your point Potter?" the Prefect rasped.

"Aren't _our dorms_ in the dungeons too? You know, the ones we have to go back to?"

Everyone stopped dead in their tracks as Harry finished his sentence, as he was talking loudly enough for everyone to hear. This time there was no shrieking, as the Slytherins were usually a more subdued lot anyway, but Harry could feel the tension in the air his words caused. Everyone was alert, trying to listen for any sign of the troll approaching. Harry felt someone grab his arm, and look to his side to see Tracey clinging to it. She quickly let it go once she noticed him looking at her, blushing profusely; Harry thought she must have done it reflexively, but she looked away from him rather embarrassed anyway. Heathcliff, of course, was not paying attention to this.

"Well fuck," he exclaimed, prompting a few shocked murmurs from some of the more pudic younger years. "They're probably gonna have my head for this, but…"

He trailed off as he looked around, and finally saw their salvation. He rushed to a door at the end of the corridor, wand at the ready. As the troll still seemed to be nowhere near, he opened the door for them to enter.

"But that's a girls' bathroom," Harry heard someone object.

"Good, that means if anyone has to go we're covered. Now get in, this isn't a time to be worrying about that shit," Heathcliff replied rather menacingly.

Everyone complied after that. When the last of the younger years had come in, the older boy closed the door and waved his wand over it in a series of complicated motions, muttering under his breath all the time. Everyone watched his movements expectantly, and they only relaxed when he finally spoke, after a couple of minutes.

"Well, no troll's getting in after that," the Prefect announced, to their visible relief. Harry turned to Ted, who was leaning against a stall wall, and made to say something, but stopped after the taller boy raised his finger to his lips.

"There's someone in there," he whispered. Harry tried to listen close, and indeed he seemed to hear something coming from within the stall. Daphne, who was just next to them, solved the mystery rather quickly.

"Whoever's there, I'm gonna open the door," she announced, and after giving whoever was in there a perfunctory time to get decent, she pushed the door open, to reveal a sniffing Hermione Granger.

She flinched back when she saw the crowd that had invaded the bathroom.

"What are you all doing here? This is the girls' bathroom," she said, managing not to burst into tears despite her obviously shaken state. Harry had to grudgingly admire her for that.

Heathcliff was on top of the issue in no time.

"And why aren't you going to your dormitories, Gryffindor girl? Don't you know there's a troll in the school?"

Granger blanched at this. Well, even more than she already was.

"A troll? But how did it get in? And what are we going to do? Are we all going to die?" she asked, talking faster with each sentence.

Heathcliff opened his mouth to answer, but before he could say anything, they heard the sound of what seemed like a battering ram knocking on the door. People started fidgeting, but their Prefect was quick to calm them down.

"Now, don't lose your head kids. There's no way some dumb troll can get through the spells I put on that door.

That at least quieted them, but no one dared to speak as the knocks increased in frequency. Granger had stopped sniffing and was watching the door as raptly as any of them. After what seemed like an eternity, the knocks stopped, and after a brief moment of expectant silence, more noise was heard, as if the troll was fighting for its life, until finally they heard a huge thud.

They looked at each other, wondering if that meant a teacher had taken care of the troll. Their question was answered when they heard Professor McGonagall's voice.

"Why is this door locked? Is anyone in there?" she asked.

Their prefect quickly undid all the spells and opened the door, to find Professors McGonagall, Snape and Quirrell staring at him.

"Mr. Heathcliff, what are you doing here? Why haven't you led your class to the dormitories like Professor Dumbledore ordered?" McGonagall asked him, frowning in disapproval.

"Well, Professor, I was doing so, but Potter here," he said, pointing at Harry with his thumb. Harry cringed and wished he could make himself invisible. His Prefect went on, oblivious to this.

"..he pointed out, that since our dorms are in the dungeons, it wasn't such a good idea to go there, since the troll was supposed to be in the dungeons in the first place," he finished. Harry saw Snape giving him a strange, calculating look. Heathcliff went on.

"So, I just ordered them all into this bathroom, and locked the door with spells a troll wouldn't be able to counter. I thought it was safer this way. We also found a Gryffindor girl here, who probably was not in the great hall when Professor Quirrell so bravely warned us of the troll," he said, adding the part about Quirrell with barely restrained sarcasm.

Granger came forward when she heard this, her head down as the approached Professor McGonagall. She seemed to have composed herself a bit.

"He's right about that Professor McGonagall. I missed dinner tonight." She seemed close to breaking down again, but held on. "If they didn't stop to use this bathroom to stay, the troll would probably have killed me," she said, seeming like she thought that was an attractive option. Harry wondered what the hell had happened to leave her in this state.

McGonagall seemed like she was going to say something, but Snape cut her off.

"Mr. Heathcliff, we will be having a talk about this later. Right now, lead the students to their dormitory. As you can see, the troll has been dealt with."

All their heads perked up, trying to catch a glimpse of the fallen troll, but they couldn't really see anything from where they were. It didn't matter, for soon they were all up and filing out the door. Granger had left with Professor McGonagall, and now the prefect was herding them out. As Harry crossed the door, he noticed the disgusting smell of the troll, and saw its unconscious form, lying on the floor beside its club. Harry was following the line when Snape laid a hand on his shoulder. Harry stopped in his tracks and left the line, facing the professor. He swallowed hard. He knew something like this was coming, but was expecting Snape to at least wait until the morning. He bit his lip and faced his head of house.

"Yes, Professor?" he said looking up into Snape's eyes, trying to keep his composure. When Harry made eye contact, Snape's guarded expression changed for a moment into a look Harry couldn't decipher. Harry felt a strange sensation in his mind, like odd thoughts were coming up to the surface uninvited. However, he held his gaze. The professor seemed to have lost his train of thought for a moment, then sighed and finally spoke.

"Potter, I'll have you know that it is the custom of this school for students to obey the orders of their teachers."

Harry swallowed, steeling himself for what was to come.

"However, you certainly had the safety of your housemates in mind, and Mr. Heathcliff did not have to go by anything you said." Snape's face seemed to contort in a great mental effort before he continued. "Not to mention, it showed more presence of mind than I believed you had. Five points to Slytherin, Potter. Now go join your classmates."

Harry nodded. "Thank you, sir," he said simply, and turned back, hardly believing what had just happened. He looked back for a second, and saw Snape with his fingers on his eyelids and shaking his head, and decided to run before the Professor changed his mind. He quickly found his friends in the line of students.

"What was that about?" Daphne asked him, curiosity shining on her green eyes that were a shadow lighter than Harry's own. He'd never met anyone else with green eyes before, now that he thought of it. He shook his head and brought his thoughts back to reality, answering the girl's question.

"Five points to Slytherin," he said simply, and a smile crossed his face. He felt Blaise pat him on the back. Their common room was looming ahead, and only then did he realize he hadn't actually eaten any dinner. As if on cue, he felt his stomach rumble.

"Say, do any of you have any snacks back in the dorm?"

* * *

And here we are. I had to go through a lot of canon scene rehashes here, though I do think I did so originally. What do you think?

As usual, I appreciate reviews. I hope you enjoyed this and keep reading! I'll try to have the next chapter ready faster than this one.


	4. Chapter 4

Alright, guys, I'm so sorry about the huge delay in this. First it was school work, and then I just lacked inspiration. I had huge trouble writing Hagrid, so much that I had to cut the scene I had planned with him from out of this chapter so as to have it out sooner. I'm on vacation now, so hopefully the next chapter will be out much sooner. I'm really sorry, and I hope that won't detract from your enjoyment.

* * *

_"Though you are in your shining days,_  
_Voices among the crowd_  
_And new friends busy with your praise,_  
_Be not unkind or proud,_  
_But think about old friends the most:_  
_Time's bitter flood will rise,_  
_Your beauty perish and be lost_  
_For all eyes but these eyes."_

_William Butler Yeats_

Fall in the Scottish Highlands turned out to be much like Winter back in Surrey. Harry wondered how cold it would get. It was a Friday night, and Harry was walking down a dimly lit corridor with Ted. Curfew was relaxed on Fridays and Saturdays; of course, curfew never bothered Ted, but Harry was a bit less sanguine about such things. The consequences of rule breaking at the Dursleys were seldom light, and he didn't see any reason to flout them unless he needed to. Old habits died hard.

The clouds that had been pouring their contents on the surrounding country had mostly left, and a full moon shone its pale light through the windows. The smell of freshly wetted earth reached Harry's nose, coming up from the grounds, through the open windows, as if beckoning them outside. It was a beautiful night, and it looked like the next day was going to be one of those sunny days that sometimes grace early November.

This was just as well; the first Quidditch game of the season, Slytherin v. Gryffindor , was scheduled for the next day. It was going to be the first Quidditch game Harry had ever seen, and he was rather curious about the wizard sport.

In the past couple of weeks, the game hype had been building up. Harry hadn't known about the game at first, but he had gotten a quick 401 from Daphne. She was a fanatical supporter of the only all female Quidditch team, the Holyhead Harpies, and told him all he ever wanted to hear about the game, and then more. If Harry was not that excited about it, it was because her enthusiasm had been tempered by Ted, who was not a big fan of the sport, though he still planned on going to cheer for Slytherin like everybody else. They needed all the cheering they could get, as the other three houses usually united against them.

"So, is Daphne going to try to get into the Quidditch team next season?" Ted asked, breaking the silence they had kept ever since they strayed into those dark, seldom walked corridors. After the initial discussion, Ted tended to tune out the Quidditch talk. In truth, Harry was starting to as well. The game had better be worth it.

"Have you seen her during the flying lessons?" Harry replied. "She's _good_."

She _was_ good. Harry hadn't ever actually seen what type of maneuvers Quidditch players had to perform, but he could tell Daphne on a broom was not to be taken lightly. Oddly enough, only himself and maybe Draco Malfoy were at her level.

"So are you." Ted replied simply. "Are you going to try?" Harry shrugged.

He had indeed found, to his surprise, that he was actually very good on a broom. Probably the best in his year, in fact. However, that didn't mean he was prepared to commit to school sports.

"Well, I have to see it first, don't I?" Harry replied noncommittally, but he didn't think that was likely. The discipline required for team sports just seemed… stifling, somehow. He definitely agreed with Ted on that.

He had just finished speaking when something in the air seemed to shift. Harry couldn't explain it, but the silence, which before had seemed to snuggle around them so naturally that it had seemed almost sacrilegious to break it; now, it was just tense, like the calm before the storm. Harry had a lot of experience in gauging ambients, but he couldn't articulate this in any way that would make sense to Ted, so he just looked around warily. He could sense the danger but not the source.

It was then that he saw it. He knew he couldn't move away in time, but he could limit the damage. He turned around and threw himself backwards, throwing himself down in such a manner that he pushed Ted ahead of him.

They almost escaped. What Harry could only describe as a jet powered bottle flew straight at them; their dive left them only barely in its path, but that was all that it took. If he had moved a second earlier, he could have probably avoided the huge blow to the head he took from the base end of a green glass bottle.

The bottle seemed to be propelled by a jet of a muddy looking liquid, though Harry suspected it was really powered by magic. He didn't have a lot of time to think about it, however, as he felt his head explode into a blast of pain as the glass broke into countless pieces and his skin was showered with the unknown liquid—evidently a potion, for he felt the most painful boils appear on his face almost instantly.

He realized that Ted had been hit too, though fortunately rather less, as Harry had shielded him from most of the impact. The last thing he noticed before everything turned to black was how the boils in Ted's skin formed a pattern rather like the Gryffindor house crest, and how two unfortunately familiar laughs sounded in the background.

Harry woke up in strange surroundings. He was lying in a bed with linen sheets, the walls around him bare white, in contrast to the much somber room he had in his dorm in the dungeons. He only barely noticed any of this, however, as his head felt like it was about to explode and his skin as if he had just rubbed it with sandpaper. It did seem, as he started recalling past events, that whatever boils may have been inflicted upon him were gone, however. Still, the shock from the sudden hammer in his skull made him groan involuntarily and close his eyes shut again.

"Harry, you're awake!"

"Daphne?" Harry managed to mumble. "Where am I? What the hell happened?"

"You're in the hospital wing." As she spoke, Harry was finally able to open his eyes. Daphne went on as he reached for his glasses.

"You've been out for a while. Apparently Theodore had to drag you here across half the school."

Harry finally managed to put his glasses into place, and looked at the girl sitting beside his bed. She was glancing over him with a worried expression. "You don't remember what happened?" she asked, as if trying to gauge whether he had suffered brain damage. Harry rubbed his temples.

"I do, now. Sorta," he replied, frowning. It was coming back to him in bits and pieces. "Where's Ted?"

"Madam Pomfrey's checking him over. He's been awake for a while."

"Madam Pomfrey?" Harry asked.

"The school nurse, you know? I didn't see you two come back so I asked Professor Snape about you, after the game. He told me you two were here, so I came right up."

"Wait, after the game? It's already Saturday?" How long had he been out?

"Yea, you've been out since last night until now, apparently. Theodore's woken up a while ago, and since he probably doesn't want me there while he's being checked up, I came to check on you," she said, grinning. "Apparently they had to put you out to regrow your skin." She paused. "How did that happen, Harry?"

Harry told her, as best he could patch things together, including who he was almost sure were the culprits. When he was finished, all Daphne had to say was:

"Well, what are you going to do about them?" She jumped from up. "I'm sure you want to get dressed, so I'll tell Madam Pomfrey you're up."

She ran out, and right before closing the door, turned back and grinned. "Oh, yea, we won," she said, closing the door behind her.

Harry was left there alone to contemplate his options. As he put his clothes on, he pondered.

* * *

As Christmas break neared, their schoolwork seemed to soar, and not even Quidditch obsession was able to distract any of Harry's yearmates from dedicating most of their time to study. However, as with everything, there were still some lulls, and this was one of them.

It was a Friday afternoon, and they were blessed with the miracle of a sunny, albeit cold, winter day. Harry had used this chance to return to his spot under the old birch tree on the edge of the grounds. Even though the weather had forced him to turn out the warm clothing in force—it was cold enough that there was still dew on the ground, which he had protected himself from through the clever use of a pilfered blanket—he sat against the tree's fearsome trunk with his notebook on his knees, telling himself he was going to start his homework now.

Ted, delicate flower that he was, opted to stay inside catching up on his sleep, but Daphne had eagerly followed Harry to the grounds. She was currently sitting on one of the tree's mighty branches, after a feat of climbing that showed more gymnastic skills than he imagined her to have, especially considering she was wearing a school robe.

He laid aside his parchment, telling himself what he already knew-he would finish it later. Probably in the evening before the due date. He looked around, basking in the glorious landscape of the Scottish Highlands.

As his eyes wandered, they settled upon a small cabin on the edge of the grounds. Smoke was escaping from the roof, though Harry could see no chimney. He wandered if the roof simply had a hole to let the smoke out, and shuddered at the thought of the cold winter winds sweeping in.

Harry thought the cabin managed to look both cozy and ramshackle at the same time, and found himself smiling. Harry was startled from his forgotten contemplation when he saw the cabin's door opening suddenly, with a creak that the wind carried to his ears through the silence.

His attention now on the doorframe, he saw Hagrid emerge from the cabin's dim interior and step out. As if he had been reading Harry's thoughts, he was carrying a tall wooden ladder he laid against the outer wall. As Hagrid began to climb, Harry wondered what sort of wood was able to bear the man's enormous frame. Then he remembered. The ladder was probably charmed to be unbreakable. He couldn't help but bring forth a smile at the thought.

Hagrid was busying himself fiddling with the place on the roof Harry had seen the smoke exit just a few moments before. It seemed Hagrid was vulnerable to the elements after all.

Harry felt a pang of guilt thinking of the man. He had been the one to introduce him to the wizard world, rescuing him from his evil family who had gone to amazing lengths to prevent Harry from attending Hogwarts. To top it off, he had bought him Hedwig as a birthday present, as if getting away from the Dursleys wasn't enough of a present to make up for the 10 years of presents he missed. Yet, Harry still had not said one word to him ever since he arrived at Hogwarts.

He tried to tell himself he hadn't had the time, but he knew that wasn't true. The reason was that the few times the groundskeeper came up in conversation among the Slytherins, his mention was always accompanied by snide remarks and laughs. Harry thought that was unfair, and was reminded that for all that he had found a measure of acceptance, his housemates could still be bigoted and mean. He knew better than to say anything though. His pre-Hogwarts years had taught him that could bring all pain and no gain. He just told himself they didn't know any better than the way they were raised.

However, as he saw Hagrid lower his arm into the hole on the cabin's roof Harry had seen earlier, and pull out what seemed to be a makeshift chimney from inside, Harry remembered _he_ did not have that excuse. He knew what it was like to be on the receiving side of snide asides. Harry decided he would be a better man and try to make up for his faults by paying a visit to the groundskeeper. He just hoped he had not waited too long that his bridges had burnt.

Harry had so lost himself ruminating on these thoughts, that he was startled when Daphne broke the silence.

"Do you think we're gonna have snow this weekend, Harry?"

Harry looked up to see Daphne peering down at him, her long black hair cascading down from her head toward the ground. He was a bit startled by the sight of his friend looming so strangely over him, but he let his gaze reach ahead to the sky instead, where he could see the growing wind was pushing heavy dark clouds toward their location. From what little he had learnt in primary school about the weather in the Scottish Highlands, Harry thought that it was, indeed, very likely that they would have snow.

"Wouldn't surprise me, Daph. Do you have any idea how much snow this area" he waved his arm around in a vague attempt to embrace the vastness of the mountains around them "usually gets?"

Daphne frowned in thought, though only after pulling herself up to a more stable position, for which Harry silently gave thanks. "Well, my parents weren't very specific, but they said it was quite more than we get in Norfolk." She jumped down to his side. "Which probably means it isn't going to get any hotter. Shall we go inside Harry?"

Harry started to lift himself up to go back, looking behind regretfully. He didn't think his friends would really accept that he be friendly with Hagrid. Not yet, anyway. Well, to tell the truth, he wasn't really sure about it, but he thought it better to be cautious, since after all, he had to live with them, not Hagrid. Besides, he liked his new friends; even if he had never had any others, he knew Dudley's friends, and thought his own were much better. Possible prejudices and all, he still liked them, but he still knew in his heart giving Hagrid the cold shoulder was wrong. Looking behind regretfully, he walked behind Daphne back to the castle.

* * *

By mid-December, all their worst fears about the Highlands weather had proven to pale in comparison to reality. It was the first day of Christmas break, and all of Harry's year mates were going home to stay with their family. Harry himself would not, of course, since he would never willingly spend any more time with the Dursleys than he absolutely had to, but that didn't stop him from accompanying his friends to the grounds, where they would be lead back to the train station.

"You haven't changed your mind, have you?" asked Daphne, obviously expecting the answer to be no.

His friends hadn't been that surprised when he told them, considering even the little Harry had shared about his domestic life back in Surrey, but it did make it seem a bit more real to them. It was pretty much then that what was left of the veneer of the Boy-Who-lived legend was washed away and all that was left was Harry Potter. Still, it didn't stop them from trying to convince him to do something else than staying at Hogwarts alone.

"I told you guys, I'd love to spend Christmas with you. Any of you," he said, including all members of his circle of friends. Ted seemed a bit uncomfortable – he had not joined his chorus of friends in offering Harry an invitation, but Harry understood. From what Harry had managed to glean, Ted's father was hardly much of an improvement on the Dursleys.

"But in order to go with you, I would have to get permission from my guardians." Harry went on. "You can guess on how forthcoming they would be with _that_ ," he concluded, shrugging.

"Well, I didn't actually expect you to change your mind now, given that you would've still had to pack and all," Daphne nodded, grinning. "But I wanted to give it one last shot."

There was a pause as they walked in silence, until Blaise finally spoke.

"I hear the Weasleys are staying here for Christmas, too. Try not to get caught in one of their so called 'pranks' again, won't you? You'll be all alone here, this time."

They had all heard about the Weasley twins' latest attack on Harry and Ted, of course. Harry was not deterred.

"Don't worry Blaise, I've something planned. If all goes well, they won't be so cocksure by the time you all get back," Harry finished with a feral grin.

"What are you thinking?" asked Ted, eyebrow raised.

"It's not very definite yet, but I'm getting there."

"Watch out, Harry, they're not … Nice People," Tracey finished lamely, but Harry thought he knew what she meant.

"Tracey, I've been dealing with Not Nice People all my life," he replied, flashing what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

They were just reaching the scheduled meeting place on the grounds, so Harry faced them all, wishing to forestall any more questions.

"Well guys, I hope you have a great Christmas," he started. "Write me."

He wasn't one for touchy-feely displays of affection, so he left it at that. He did mouth a silent "good luck" to Ted, but that was it. Waving goodbye, he walked back to the school.

* * *

In the ensuing days Harry had the castle practically to himself. That wasn't really true, for there were a good few students staying, but it seemed that way because of how much less they were compared to normal. This was especially true in his own house, where there were only three or four people left besides him—all older years whom he did not recognize. In any event, they all stayed out of each others' way.

Due to the much reduced number of students, the students no longer sat at meals divided by their house. Instead, the teachers and students all shared one round table. It was Christmas Eve, and the Great Hall was cheerfully decorated with Christmas trees and other such ornaments, and the mood seemed to be generally in keeping with the spirit of the season, but for Harry, feelings were rather more mixed. He had always spent his Christmases locked in his cupboard, while Dudley shared in the festive joy with his parents. He'd had to watch him gloat about the ever increasing number of presents he received, while Harry would count himself lucky to get a pair of "new" hand-me-down socks. Even in school, he never had anyone to share a Christmas related activity with, as the senior Dursleys were all about Dudley. You could say he had never _felt_ Christmas joy, at least since he was old enough to remember such things. He was in the wizard world _now_, but nothing would give him back his stolen childhood, and it was in moments like this, when he felt so strangely detached from all the emotion around, that he was more painfully reminded of it.

On the other hand, he _was_ here now. He would only be stuck with the Dursleys for six more years, and only during the Summer vacation at that. He had friends for the first time in his life and was able to relish every new day instead of looking at it as just another round of torture to be endured. In the end, he decided, it was better to face the hopeful future than to dwell on the dark past. Resolving to do his best to achieve that, he turned to the girl on his left, who he now noticed was a fellow first year – in fact, she had been with him on the boat ride across the Hogwarts Lake. He remembered noticing how her hair almost shone with the moonlight, but the sky was clouded now, and the indoor lighting didn't provide for such a spectacular effect. Nevertheless, she was still very recognizable.

"Morag, right?" Harry asked her as she finished her main course. She seemed startled, but quickly got herself back together.

"Yeah. How did you know?" she replied coyly.

"I remembered you from the sorting, of course," he smiled, reassuring her. Some people didn't like talking to Slytherins, so while he found out if Morag was one of them, he had to tread lightly.

She nodded.

"Well, most people don't really remember things like that."

"I have a good memory," Harry shrugged. "I had to develop one, I guess."

Morag frowned but didn't pursue that possibly interesting tangent. That was just as well, because Harry wasn't willing to go any further down that road. Harry appreciated her for that.

They talked softly for the rest of the meal, neither mentioning why they were there instead of home. An unspoken solidarity bounded them to that. Regardless of how much he liked most of his housemates, he realized that only talking to people from his house for practically the whole period had kind of made him lose some perspective.

Just as the younger years were starting to head to their dorms, Harry turned to her.

"Merry Christmas, Morag", and strode down the hall as she called back, wishing the same to him. He turned and grinned at her before turning the corner and waltzing down to the dungeons. That had cheered him up.

* * *

As he woke the next day, he was startled to find a small pile of packages sitting at the foot of his bed. He _had_ used some of his newfound wealth to buy something for his friends – made possible by an owl order catalog he found out was available. A pair of dragonhide Quidditch gloves for Daphne ("to help you practice for next year"), a pair of glasses charmed to allow the wearer to see at night for Ted ("to help your odds of not getting caught"), a wizard history book for Blaise ("you said you found this period fascinating") and the tome _Non-Pureblood Slytherins_ for Tracey ("I told you you were not alone"). He also bought some symbolic knick-knacks for everyone else in his year, just as a token of good-faith and house spirit.

However, he hadn't been sure if he was really going to get anything. He'd certainly never broached the topic with anyone, and thought that perhaps they would've thought they didn't know him for long enough for him to be present-worthy; he was worried he might seem overeager by buying them presents himself when they had not.

Fortunately, that was not the case, as the pile showed quite neatly. He dug in and opened the first of several packages, which he found to be from Tracey. It contained a polished golden doorknob, which upon reading her letter he found to be an 'anti-Muggle doorknob', "to keep your relatives out of your room", she said. Harry chuckled – that could actually become very useful.

The next was a book from Blaise entitled _Magical Families of the South West_. As instructed by Blaise's letter, Harry turned to page 110, to see a chapter entitled _The Potters_. He smiled, stowing the book away to read later. Next came a pair of sneakers enchanted to make the wearer run faster, from Daphne. She included a note not to let them get lost into the muggle world, or they could get in trouble.

Finally, Ted had sent him an old copy of the Daily Prophet. Harry thought this odd at first, but then he found it was dated from the days Voldemort was a large. There, next to an article detailing an attack by Voldemort's followers, who Harry learned were called Death Eaters, Harry found a picture of "James and Lily Potter, two of the first on the scene." Harry remembered how Hagrid told him his parents had fought Voldemort, but this made it all the more real to him. It was because of that man that Harry was, at eleven years old, only finding out what his parents even looked like, or hearing anything about what they had done in life. He knew that Voldemort had terrorized thousands, but somehow it seemed that this was the worst thing he had ever done, and Harry hated him for it, whatever had happened to him.

It was then that, since Voldemort had apparently been a Slytherin, he would have slept in this same dormitory in his own first year. Possibly even the same bed Harry had just laid in. The thought caused him to shudder in revulsion, and he carefully laid the newspaper on the bedside table, sparing one more glance at his parents' picture. He had a feeling he would spend many more hours looking at it, wondering what might have been. He made a mental note to find a way to thank Ted properly.

Finally, aside from a few other knick-knacks from a few of his other year mates who apparently had had the same idea, and a fifty pence coin from the Dursleys he angrily threw at the wall, there were two packages left. One, wrapped in thick brown paper, turned out to be from Hagrid, containing a thick wooden flute. Harry felt a twinge of guilt. He still had not visited the groundskeeper, or made any friendly overtures towards him. He would have to see to that.

Harry didn't know how to play flute, or anything else for that matter, but he gave it a little whistle upon which it produced a vaguely owlish sound.

The last one was very light, and as Harry opened it he was met by a silvery gray piece of cloth he realized to be a cloak. However, as he slid his hands under it to lie on his bed, feeling its watery touch, he found that he could see through them and the cloak itself. Startled, he dropped it to the floor, upon which it became visible again, but not without a note falling out of it first.

Harry picked the note up first, and saw these words written in an eccentric handwriting:

_Your__ father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well._

_A Very Merry Christmas to you._

There was no signature, but judging by the handwriting he could guess who it had come from. Why would his parents have given such a useful thing to Dumbledore, though, especially given how useful it could have been hiding from Voldemort? He frowned. First, he wanted to confirm whether the cloak did what it seemed at first sight.

He carried it to the bathroom, where he stood in front of the mirror, facing his reflection, and threw the cloak over his torso. And sure enough, just as he did so, he saw part of his reflection disappear. He tried getting it to cover his head, and confirmed he could see through the fabric, from the inside. It was just like magic. He grinned and took the cloak off, hugging it to himself. He had gone so long without any memento of his parents, and now he had been showered with a photo, an heirloom and a family history. While they did make the loss seem even more gaping, they had also filled something he knew he needed. He even felt more charitable towards Dumbledore. He felt his eyes water, but fought it even though he knew there was no one around to see it. He learned long ago tears didn't help anyone.

* * *

He wanted to find out more about the cloak, but of course the library was closed for Christmas day, so he wouldn't be able to discover whether it had anything to say about it until the next day. So, he found the hours crawl by, even though he was filled with an unusually cheery mood, even going to the point of wishing Ron Weasley a Merry Christmas, even though the redhead just ignored him. Fortunately, no one else was around. He'd deny it if Wesley ever brought it up.

Finally, after an agitated night of unsettling dreams, where he always heard a woman scream and a flash of green light, right before waking up, he was up as soon as the Great Hall opened for breakfast. He was the only one present, which was fortunate because the way he practically vacuumed his food was really very unbecoming. But he couldn't help himself, and after a few minutes he was running towards the library.

He slowed down as he approached, for he knew if Madam Pince saw him running she would be highly displeased. As it was, he approached the surly librarian's desk slowly, mindful of her regard for rules.

"Good morning, Madam Pince."

She looked at him with a wary frown, but nodded in return. Harry figured that was all he was going to get, and he wasn't there to pay a social visit anyway.

"Could I have the index, please?" he asked. The index was exactly what it says on the tin. It contained an index list of all the books in the library, complete with cross-references.

Madam Pince's frown deepened at this point, but he was expecting that.

"And just what are you in such a rush to read you had to be here at first light?" she asked.

"Just some homework I realized will take a while to complete, Madam Pince," he said, trying to appear innocent.

He didn't know whether it worked, but she handed him the index without further comment. Harry took it and decided to start the search by looking for books on invisibility. He dismissed _The Invisible Book of Invisibility_, as he doubted he could read anything on it, and settled on trying _Invisible, or Just Hard to See?_

He proceeded to find the book, which was no easy task, given how the library seemed to be structured. After a few minutes' search, however, he located the desired tome and sat down to examine it.

Just as Harry hoped, it contained an entire chapter on invisibility cloaks. Harry started to read, a task which was not helped by the book's fine print. The author went on describing a cloak's make and properties. Harry found himself nodding at the book, as he recognized all of the properties described in the cloak he had come to possess. All seemed to match, until he came upon this intriguing line:

"_Despite legends about a centuries old invisibility cloak which had been able to retain its invisibility in a perfect state, any invisibility cloak, no matter the type of make, start to 'fade' from invisibility into a kind of opacity ten to fifteen years from their inception."_

Harry frowned. Something didn't seem right. His father had been dead for ten years, and Harry imagined he hadn't bought the cloak right before dying, immediately entrusting it to Dumbledore.

How peculiar.

* * *

As always, I appreciate reviews. They make me feel guilty about not updating. xD I hope the delay has not discouraged you from following my story.


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